


Les Rêves des Amoureux Sont Comme le Bon Vin

by Big_Boss



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Cooking, France (Country), M/M, Paris (City)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-28
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2017-12-03 21:25:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/702791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Big_Boss/pseuds/Big_Boss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lavi liked to compare Kanda with a l'omelette lyonnaise. It's bland at first, but kind of sweet because of the red onions and wine vinegar. Kanda liked to compare Lavi with a glass of Robert Mondavi Pinot Noir. A day without it is like a day without sunshine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Soupe à l'Oignon

 

* * *

**Recipe One**

**January**

_**"Soupe à l'Oignon"** _

* * *

  _ **Ingredients:** _

_5 pounds onions, preferably red_

_4 tablespoons butter_

_10 cups beef, turkey, or chicken broth_

_1 medium-size bouquet garni_

_1 pinch salt and pepper_

_4 cups 6-inch cubes cut from crusty slices of French bread, preferably sourdough_

_25 cups finely grated Swiss Gruyère or other full-flavored firm cheese_

* * *

_At first glance, the outside looked as if it was already spring._ Two men were handling shovels and getting rid of the snow that had gathered on the front porch of the university. It had been a murderous winter for the past few weeks yet Kanda seemed unaffected by it. He was fond of the cold season. If it was possible, he'd choose to live in a country where winter was a perpetual season. It wasn't because he liked the holidays or excessive celebrations; he just hated warm weather and being exposed to the sun or being covered in sweat. He often thought he was the only one who enjoyed the cold as he observed his classmates inside the room covered in layered, thick, and vibrant sweaters and jackets; almost shivering to the chill as they were mixing ingredients and battering eggs, and cursing out loud about how cold it was.

Kanda Yu stopped looking outside the huge window in the middle of the room and focused on the meal he was preparing. The chef, and also his professor, had ordered them to make soup—any kind of soup. Without much hesitation, the black-haired student quickly thought of French Onion Soup. It was a classic. No one could ever go wrong with onion soup. He started peeling the onions using a Benriner cutter so it would be sliced as thin as it could go. He was ashamed to say that he was fairly sensitive to onions. Every time he would encounter the small vegetable, his translucent blue eyes would tear up, but not to a degree where he would be considered crying. His uncle, a Frenchman, found his little weakness cute and he would always suggest to put chunks of onions on top of his head. It was more of a Hispanic belief, but his uncle assured him it was capable of stopping one from crying. Then again, that was just a myth. Kanda had a trick of his own. Before he would chop those wretched onions, he would first keep them in the freezer for a few minutes. He had no idea how it worked, but he knew that it was better than putting them on his head.

The hardest part was caramelizing the onions. The steam that came out from the heavy-bottomed pot got him tearing up. The mountain of onions became lazy, brown laces and blended so beautifully when the broth was mixed in. Several minutes more and it was done. 

The spacious, frigid food laboratory was starting to heat up by the time Kanda had finished throwing toasted bread cubes among the soup-filled crocks. The room soon let loose mixed scents of bay leaves, cilantro, rosemary and cinnamon due to the several students' diversity of meals. On Kanda's left, there was a couple cooking Oxtail soup; on the other direction, a young woman, boiling an effortless Cocoa soup. The chef soon shouted to gain the attention of the students and began grading their finished product by going over to their counters one by one. With restrained anger, Kanda couldn't talk back when he received a grade that was less than _magnifique_ , which was always his professor's usual comment on his food. Chefs knew him to be an outstanding student chef. He seldom received an average grade. The only time he got a low score was his first day of cooking school. Kanda watched as the chef moved on to one student to another, trying his hardest to hide his irritation.

 _That afternoon, he left the campus dismayed and restless_. He wasn't sure why but he knew for sure that his meal was far better than the disheveled Oxtail soup or the mediocre Cocoa. Careful not to slip, he dragged his cold feet on the snow-covered ground, heading to the St Germain des Pres. He stopped in front of a coffee shop—a small café with a somewhat film noir feel to it. It was far from the usual Parisian chic as the vintage sign saying " _Le Gris Cafe"_ hung high above the doorway. The caff was a favorite of the locals and a refuge for tourists. The well-dressed staff was intimidating but hospitable and was capable of speaking fluent English, making it such a big plus for tourists.

A bell rang, a sign that someone entered, and as soon as Kanda stepped on the wooden pavements of the room, a young lady emerged from back and smiled at him familiarly. He replied a small gesture of nodding his head once and seated himself on a comfortable chair by the window. It was his usual place and his lady friend had always assured that that certain table would be available by that certain time in the afternoon. Walls splashed with glass and old-fashioned motifs filled his sight. Together with the moody lighting was hearty jazz music and beautiful moulded ceilings. It let off a cozy atmosphere, perfect to get soaked up with relaxation.

The same girl approached him, not bothering to get a menu for him. "What would you like for today?" she asked, her cheerful smile not waning as she held a notepad between her hands. "Black tea. You already know that." He replied dryly, taking off his coat as he had forgotten to before he came in.

"I know. It's just fun to say that." She giggled before she checked her watch. "By the way, I'll be having a couple of days off next week, so you won't be seeing me much in the afternoon. I worked my butt off during the holidays and I convinced my brother to let me off the shift during the afternoon."

"Aren't you people already short on staff?"

"Yeah. But we found a guy who needed a part-time job last week. I hear he's the grandson of one of the cafe's creditors."

"I never see him."

"That's because he's working at the back. By the time I leave the afternoon shift, he'll be the one waiting tables." She paused for awhile and smiled wider, "He's really cute, but not really my type. He hit on me when we first met but he's really funny. I guess he's pretty smart too."

"Lenalee. I don't care less about the new guy. Just get me my tea already."

"Someone had a bad day." Lenalee was used to the man's grumpiness and retorts so she only chuckled. "Bet the chef gave you a 3 out of 5."

Kanda glared at her.

"Oh dear, I'm right. Looks like I need to get you that tea quick." The girl said with a slight laugh and disappeared into the kitchen.

The long-haired student sighed, putting his palms on his forehead. He was slowly catching a headache and Lenalee's ramblings didn't do it any better. He watched her as she waited other tables after bringing his order to the kitchen, her long hair tied to twin ponytails on either side of her head as the dim golden ceiling lamp shone perfectly on her, emphasizing her mauve highlights. She was the sister of the café owner and had been a regular in the place since she was young. They had met only when they were just children since Tiedoll, his uncle, was a good friend of Lenalee's brother. She was a vibrant girl, cheerful, but only to a certain extent. Her brother, however, was the very opposite of her. Kanda always thought of him as a maniac who had an unhealthy obsession with his sister. There was also a rumor he was a prolific inventor of perfectly useless things.

The thought of him made Kanda's headache worse. Lenalee approached him again, this time holding a tray with a cup of tea on it and a piece of _bruschetta_ to compliment the beverage. "Here you go."

Kanda looked at it with dislike. "I didn't say Chamomile."

"I thought you could use some. You should relax more and stop drinking those black tea and coffee. They're not as healthy as other tea, you know."

"You shouldn't lecture me about food."

"I know a little about food, too." The girl pouted as she set a napkin on the table. "Maybe not as much as you do, but I've been working here long enough to know the effects of different kinds of tea. And Lavi is always teaching me new stuff about food, too! I can't really say he _knows_ how to cook, but he's really—"

"Who's that?"

"Who's who?"

"Lavi."

"Oh! He's the new guy." She smiled when she remembered something. "Did I mention he memorized the menu just by looking at it?"

"He sounds like a weirdo."

"You're one to talk." He looked at her with a raised brow, "I'm kidding. But boy, you should loosen up a bit. The winter is making you even colder." She threw him one last shaft of her untiring smile before turning around and heading back to the kitchen.

Kanda looked at his cup and sniffed the aroma. He had always liked the smell of tea, especially Oolong and any kind of black tea but this seemed to be an exception. The Chamomile tea smelled sweet, almost lemony, that he could still smell the herb itself. It was too saccharine for his nose and he felt like it wasn't a very suitable tea for wintertime. Yet with the unpleasant aroma, he took a sip and relaxed on his chair. Well, surely it didn't taste bad. His head turned to his side towards the window and watched as people in heavy clothing walk on the streets. He enjoyed doing this every afternoon, so much that he would never fail to stop by the coffee shop to get at least a cup of tea—any kind as long as it wasn't coffee. He'd sometimes order some wine, but only on warm, spring days. And from time to time, when his schedule had afternoon classes instead of early morning lectures, he would then drop by the shop early in the morning, still with the same order.

 _It was five in the afternoon on the following week_ when Kanda entered the café with no sign of Lenalee and guessed that it was the start of her slacking-offs, or rather, day-offs. He sat down as usual, took off his coat and let down his long wet hair, due to the snow, to dry up. He relaxed his shoulders and slumped down on the soft chair. Unfortunately, his peace and quiet was short-lived, for the very next minute, an unfamiliar waiter appeared by his table wearing a black apron over a slightly darker sweatshirt with the nameplate pinned to his left torso that read, ' _Lavi'_. Unlike the other well-dressed waiters, this one seemed to be an exception. The girl had always talked about him whenever he would take Kanda's order and it intrigued him what the new guy was really like. Was he as cool as Lenalee mentioned him to be? He still wasn't sure but there was one thing he did know just by looking—that the new guy looked like a complete moron.

"So, what would the pretty lady like this afternoon?"

And just like a steaming hot pot, Kanda's face heated out of anger and snapped. He really must be new. The upset boy lifted himself off his seat and grabbed the offender by the collar, and made sure his grip was tight and rough enough to be painful. The waiter was just surprised by the gesture and quickly clutched Kanda's arms in reflex, to at least loosen the tight grip. He was taller but that didn't stop Kanda from hissing at him like a venomous snake.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!" the surprised one exclaimed, his eye scanning the surroundings, a little grateful that there were only two customers in the room; the one didn't care while the other watched intently at the uproar. The grip was too unpleasant and the waiter exerted force, managing to completely push him away. "What the hell's wrong with you?" he shouted, gasping for air.

"Say that again and I'll fucking cut your head off with a butcher knife."

"Say what again?" Kanda waited and forced himself to calm down. He sat down once more. The other man then blinked his one eye, a black eyepatch covering the right eye for reasons Kanda had no intention of knowing. Lavi blinked twice. Then, the one-eyed man's expression changed drastically. "H-Holy shit… you're a _dude_? But you're so pretty!" His face showed obvious disappointment.

Kanda threw him nothing but a glare, his blue eyes shining with irritation. He began to imagine seven different ways on how to kill this man in front of him. He also began to despise that red-orange hair of his. "Watch your mouth, you stupid little shit."

Lavi was taken aback by such vulgar words. Sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck, he said, "B-B-But, Lenalee told me you're a girl! And, man, was I so convinced since, well, you _are_ really pretty…"

The things Lenalee told Kanda about him were awfully contradictory. He was definitely not funny and most definitely not smart. Though he couldn't lie when he thought that the redhead was, at any rate, appealing which compensated for his stupidity at the very least. Lavi had somewhat this Eurasian features. Kanda kept quiet as he secretly judged the waiter, crossing his arms, apparently waiting for some kind of apology.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay? Let's just forget about this and let me take your order."

"Tea."

"What?"

"I said _tea_ , idiot."

"Well, sure, let me just brew ya 129 brands of tea," Lavi replied, sarcasm leaking from his voice. Kanda hurled him another menacing glare. "Christ, I was just kidding. I heard ya like black tea, 'kay? Do ya want English, Irish, Scottish, catfish, horseradish or what?"

"Masala Chai."

"Yeah… I think we're out of those—"

"Shut up and get the damn tea."

 _For the next three days, Kanda was still frustrated Lenalee wasn't showing up during his afternoons and instead, the sarcastic, stupid, ginger waiter showed up_. He was actually contemplating whether he would still drop by the café after class now that his relaxation sessions were frequently being bombarded by the said waiter who would either hit on him or throw unfunny jokes at him ever-so often. They weren't fighting, nor were they in conflict since Lavi was the only one who threw the insults and Kanda would just threaten to kill him or something similar. However, there was certain Thursday that was different from all the other three days. It wasn't because he ordered coffee instead of tea—mainly because his afternoon class was about tea and he had, perhaps, tasted forty kinds of tea in one day. It was when Kanda's bright blue eyes widened as he watched a certain redheaded waiter sat down on the chair across him, sighing out of exhaustion.

"Get out of my sight," Kanda spat out, resting the cup of coffee on the varnished table.

"It's funny, 'cause I don't know much about ya other than that beautiful face and nasty language of yours." Lavi replied, taking no notice about the vulgar words coming out from the irritated man.

"And you don't have to. Go away."

"So, would you like to have coffee with me sometime?" Lavi asked, again, completely ignoring what Kanda had been saying. And the fact that he looked actually half-serious made Kanda raise a brow.

"I wouldn't go for coffee with an idiot like you."

" _Au_ _contraire,_ you already are." His green eye pointed at Kanda's cup of coffee.

Kanda rolled his eyes and decided to pay no heed to the fellow in front of him, imagining the redhead had ceased to exist.

Lavi eyed the man in front of him. He had been exceptionally honest to Lenalee, whom he got along with quite quickly, when he said that he was captivated by the young man. Well, since he initially thought he was a woman but that really didn't stop him. Lavi already knew who Kanda was on his first day, asking Lenalee who the pretty young woman was. And she replied, saying the _pretty young woman_ was a good friend of hers. He wished she would've at least corrected him. But then he realized she might have done that on purpose.

By awesomely failing to get the black-haired man's attention, Kanda had let him sit across him for a while longer to talk. Well, Lavimostly did the talking as Kanda's replies only consisted of very little—and crude—words.

"What school do you go to?" Lavi asked, munching on Kanda's unattended _couronne_ , caring less about what Kanda would say.

"Why should I tell you?"

"Because I know ya go to the one across the block."

Kanda's eyes narrowed. "How the hell did you know that?"

"Because we go to the same university?"

Kanda's eyes narrowed in disbelief. "You're lying."

"Nope. I never lie."

He then noticed the ring-shaped bread Lavi was consuming was gone. "You're going to have to get me a new bagel."

"It's a _couronne._ "

Kanda, being a culinary arts student, felt slightly offended. "I know what the hell it is," He spat out angrily.

"Alright, alright, don't get mad now." Lavi said lowly, putting his hands up in surrender.

Lavi found out they go to the same university when he saw the school logo stamped on the side of one of Kanda's books. He inquired about the major he was taking. No one could ever make Kanda talk about himself, or talk about anything in general. But nonetheless, Lavi found out they were on separate buildings, much to the redhead's dismay. He could've sworn he saw a look of relief on Kanda's face when he knew about this.

Lavi couldn't hide the fact that he was a tad bit nervous. It was his first time hitting on someone like him—much less on a man. Out of utter nervousness, he didn't know why he kept bragging about the A pluses he got on exams. He would give the same grade to the beautiful creature in front of him, though.

"I believe I haven't introduced myself yet. I'm Lavi, a History student working here at this high-paying café to buy a car. Also, because gramps basically threw me in here." He bowed his head while on his seat, acting like a retarded fancy-talking Englishman. And he was very much aware of that. "You?"

Kanda didn't reply, not bothering to say his name.

"Your name. That's all I ask."

"Kanda."

"Kanda?" Lavi repeated and asked, "What about your first name?"

He thought he could fool him into thinking that was his first name by saying it first. The redhead was a little clever, he thought. "I can't find the reason to tell you."

"Well, as far as my lonely eye could see, you are of Japanese descent. While 'Kanda' is an uncommon surname in Japan, and in Asia, it is—"

"I get it, smartass. It's Yu Kanda." Kanda said hesitantly, in order to stop the redhead's persistence.

"I have met only two _Yu'_ s in my life and I must say that you are by far prettier."

"Please go to hell."

"How polite of you to say _please_." Lavi decided to stop his fancy talk and became more serious as he found it obvious that the other man was not taking him seriously at all. "What're you taking in university?"

"None of your business." He said, finishing off his cup of coffee before scribbling something on his blue-covered notebook. Lavi couldn't help but feel a little down. For something to get his attention, the redhead grabbed one of his notebooks that were sitting prettily on top of a closed shiny laptop.

"What are you—"

"What is this? Are you taking Home Economics or something?" He scrutinized his notebook while trying to decode the scribbles about shellfish. His handwriting was messy and Lavi honestly expected something better for someone like him. Kanda then snatched the notebook away from Lavi's grasp and put it back where it had originally was. "College of Tourism and Hospitality... Oh! Lemme guess, you're taking Culinary Arts?"

"That wasn't a guess." There was something on his face that said Lavi was right.

"You're right. I knew that all along."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I posted this first on ff.net. I'm gonna be updating here, too from now on :) There're gonna be slight changes in the early chapters that I'm gonna post. I began to write this when I started uni and since I'm a student in the College of Tourism and Hospitality Management, I thought it would be fun to write a story about something I love doing! Cooking!
> 
> BTW, title translates to "dreams of lovers are like good wine" from the song "Le Festin" by Camille.


	2. Mousse au Chocolat

* * *

**Recipe Two**

**February**

_**"Mousse au Chocolat"** _

* * *

**Ingredients:**

_6 large eggs_

_2 tablespoons water or coffee_

_1 tablespoon Cognac or any kind of brandy  
_

_4 tablespoons sugar_

_6 ounces of bittersweet chocolate, chopped coarse_

_4 tablespoons unsalted butter_

_4 teaspoon cream of tartar_

* * *

_It was a cloudy day on the first week of February_. There were layers of snow on the ground but there were none falling from the sky. The frequent blustery weather was unpredictable, especially at late afternoons, but the cold climate didn't stop Kanda from walking to his much beloved café in the middle of Paris.

Other than February being the coldest month, it was a time when Paris was truly serene. The tourists from Christmas had already gone back to their respective homes, making the City of Lights much more spacious than it already was. But what Kanda loved most about the season was the silence. It was hardly ever quiet in the city. There were movie shootings, parades, festivals, concerts, tourists, long lines, and everything was just generally too crowded for his taste. He enjoyed the silence February brought.

But not for too long.

Along with the last several days, Kanda was immediately greeted with a vibrant smile worn by a very vibrant redhead. And that routine didn't stop as Lavi became the regular waiter, and Lenalee preferred being an apprentice cook. Cooking was her hobby, although not entirely her passion, she loved it so much that she was thinking of enrolling in short cooking courses in Le Cordon Bleu. Having said that, she still worked as a waitress. But only during the evenings.

If it weren't for Kanda's affection for food or his history with the café and the people working in it, he probably would have stopped visiting the place. The young man with midnight blue hair sat on his usual place, followed by a man with fiery red hair.

Kanda had been ordering coffee more often. Lavi thought it was because of the weather. He was aware Kanda was more of a tea person, so he couldn't help but wonder.

"So, what does Yu want today?" Lavi asked, now wearing the café's official uniform instead of his casual attire when he first worked there. "You've been shifting between tea and coffee for a while now. What would it be? Black tea? Oolong? Coffee? Or maybe you'd like to have a try of me instead?"

Before Lavi knew it, his right foot was painfully stepped over by leather Christian Louboutin boots.

"T-T-Tea, it is, then," Lavi stammered, still feeling the pain on his foot and wondering how Kanda could be so damn strong. "I'll be right back."

It had been quite easy for Lavi to read Kanda's decisions, especially with his food choices. It wasn't because he was easy to read, quite the opposite, in fact. It became easy for Lavi to memorize his expressions and his every movement. He could say that his frequent staring and pushiness had something to do with it. He couldn't help but gawk at the young man whenever he was there. He was eye-catching, possessing the air of someone different, someone exotic. His face was incredibly hard to forget, Lavi believed.

When he approached Kanda again, he was surprised that Kanda was the one who spoke first.

"Green tea," he asked without a questioning tone, raising a brow. "How did you know I wanted this?"

"A hunch? I dunno." He shrugged his shoulders. "You seem to be in a bad mood and I didn't want to give you coffee. Tea makes you happy, coffee just makes you fucking nervous."

Kanda displayed an impressed reaction. Truthfully, Lavi always thought he was always in a bad mood. But that day was different. Kanda never did physically hurt him, it was actually the first time he stomped on his foot like that, which made Lavi guessed that something happened in his class or something. It was a sign that they were starting to be familiar to each other. He also burst out a possibility that maybe Kanda just hated him, but Lavi couldn't stomach thinking about anything like that, especially since he grew emotionally fond of the young student chef. It was then Lenalee came out of the kitchen doors, in the middle of tying an apron around her body, and hand-signaling Lavi across the large room.

"Lavi, your shift is over," she said with a shout, but not too loud. She winked at him, approaching the nearby table where a couple just settled in, a sign that it was her turn to wait the tables.

The redhead turned his attention back to Kanda.

"Well, whadaya know? My shift's over," he said, waywardly sitting on a chair across Kanda and taking off his apron. The other one didn't mind, having been used to the redhead's everyday atrocities. Besides, his threats and protests were futile against Lavi. He probably was the only one in the world who could bear it.

"Why does your shift ends whenever I'm here?" Kanda asked in an irritated manner, giving a dubious glare.

Lavi just smirked as he watched him sip his tea. "Lena's the one who appointed me in the scheds, not me," Kanda didn't say anything, growing more and more suspicious of the girl. He then brought out a book. Lavi peered over it where it had _Professional Cooking_  as its title. "Speaking of Lenalee, her birthday's coming up."

Kanda froze. He had completely forgotten about it. So as to avoid humiliation, he lied, "I-I know."

"Right." Lavi flashed a haughty grin.

He glowered in return. "What about her birthday?"

"I want to give her a gift. It hasn't been that long but I want to give something to the prettiest person in this café." He paused for a while, expecting to see a change in expression from Kanda's face but found none, so Lavi gave him a reason to. "Next to you, of course."

"Fuck you," Kanda's reply was frank and hurtful. Lavi found himself being glared at. And if each of Kanda's glares was a stab from his Sabatier Aîné & Perrier kitchen knife, Lavi would have been dead ages ago.

Akin to the elapsed few days, Lavi ignored the coarse comment. "I'm thinking of buying something for her from _les soldes_ that's comin' up."

Kanda rolled his conceited blue eyes. "It started a week ago."

"No way."

"You really are stupid."

Once again, ignoring the insult, he replied, "Ah, shit. Well, what about you? Are ya gonna give her something?" Lavi was aware that the two Asians knew each other longer. The girl mentioned that Kanda's family and her brother were acquaintances and they used to visit the café every weekend.

"Huh," he said with a sigh. It was all Kanda could say. He hadn't thought of a present yet. Last year, he took her to the _Carnaval de Limoux_. The girl loved everything that was colorful and fun, and he knew she would love such festivities. Lavi stayed quiet for a while as they watched Lenalee take orders from the customers and going back and forth in the kitchen.

"But ya know…" he trailed off, folding his arms on the table, "There's another important day next week."

Kanda pondered for a moment, not wanting to let the redhead know that he had forgotten another birthday. But as he seemed to have not remembered anyone having their birthday on the February—with the exception of Lenalee and her brother—he gave up. "What?"

Lavi gave him a brash smile, leaning closer. "How long have you been here again?"

Kanda looked confused, but answered anyway, "Nine years."

"You've been living in Paris—the City of Love—without even remembering what this very city is built for?"

Growing more and more annoyed by the redhead's unnecessary and ambiguous comments, Kanda replied, "Damn it, just say it already."

Lavi inhaled loudly, as if getting ready for a huge declaration. "Valentine's Day! _La Saint Valentin_!"

The other boy almost cringed, especially when Lavi said it so ceremoniously. For a boy who lived in Paris, he wasn't very attracted to Valentine's Day.

"That's not important," Kanda scoffed.

"I think so, too," he paused, Kanda's eyebrow raised, "But not if you go out with me on the 14th."

Again, his right foot was stomped on. Not with a boot, but with the very, very sharp tip of an umbrella.

 _It didn't take long until the 14_ _th_ _of the February came along_. Indeed, the cupid's arrows were flying all over the place. The usually calm and morose café was now bustling with all kinds of couples—teenagers, adults, husband and wife, and even old timers. It was a rare occasion for the café to be smothered by lovers, except for that certain holiday.

Kanda, on the other hand, didn't look so happy. His mood didn't quite improve when he saw the place packed with lovebirds. He just turned around and pushed the doors out of the shop until his arm was grabbed tightly by an unfamiliar hand.

"Yu!" Lavi shouted before grinning at him.

"Don't call me that," Kanda had been saying that to him over and over again but Lavi never listened. It was the first time Lavi had touched him. He noticed the tight grip on his left arm and suddenly petrified.

"Hey," The redhead called out, letting go of the arm, noticing the other man's impassive state. "Where ya goin'?"

Kanda's upset blue eyes rose. "I-I'm …just gonna find another place… to go to. My seat's probably taken anyway."

He turned, heading for the door but was again grabbed by Lavi, this time by the wrist. "What are you talking about? I reserved your seat as soon as I got here." Lavi pointed at Kanda's usual place.

Kanda was starting to get annoyed by the redhead's constant touching. "That wasn't necessary. I'm going to leave."

Lavi was just as stubborn as he was and followed the somewhat confused man until they were outside the coffee shop. There was no snow, only a cool breeze rounding about. A sigh escaped from the shorter man's lips. He knew how obstinate the redhead was and there was no way he could get rid of him. It was the first time anyone was resistant to his threats and rudness. Lavi had an ability to ignore the offensive words coming out of Kanda's mouth, and it amazed him how he could be so resilient.

Kanda roughly pushed his clutched wrist away and exhaled, letting out his visible breath. Lavi's touch stirred him and bothered him to no end. He walked ahead, leaving the one-eyed man behind. "Leave me alone."

However, Lavi continued his pursuit. He had no intention of stopping. He had to admit that he was mesmerized as soon as he laid his remaining green eye on the lovely boy. At first, it felt like shit when he found out he was slowly getting attracted to a man. It felt weird, maybe somewhat incredible. But it didn't take long enough for him to get used to it. He was resilient. He knew that. Kanda knew that. Gender was something to be worried about in a relationship, at least that was what he thought until he met Kanda. To be attracted to such a difficult guy was suffering.

Lavi then offered to be Kanda's date that day. The other man didn't accept nor reject, saying to do whatever Lavi wanted, along with a frown and a menacing tone. The redhead assumed it was alright and even suggested to go to a less crowded shop. Kanda was hesitant at first, but when the weather started to worsen, Lavi found it his chance to drag him indoors to get soaked on heat.

The sky was already getting dark when Kanda ordered hazelnut coffee—as he saw the modest shop serving tea in bags, which he didn't particularly like, preferring a more old-fashion way of brewing them—and a piece of herbed _ciabatta._ Tea made from tea bags tasted like rainwater to him. The taller man ordered a chocolate soufflé and a glass of pink lemonade. The service was superb, Lavi thought. It didn't take too long before their orders were served.

Kanda was pouring cream on his cup when Lavi spoke, admiring his wonderfully decorated chocolate dessert, "This cake looks delicious."

Kanda stopped stirring his coffee and spat out, "They're two different things."

"Soufflés, mousses, cakes, truffles—who cares? They're goddamn delicious I can tell ya that."

Kanda irately narrowed his eyes toward the oblivious redhead. "Soufflés and cakes need to be baked. A mousse doesn't."

Lavi raised his eyes and smiled. "I didn't know that."

"That's because you're an idiot."

Lavi only chuckled at his words. "I don't bake. Do you bake often? In your class, I mean," the redhead asked, playing with the insides on his soufflé.

"Depends." Kanda paused to take a sip from his hot coffee. "Our instructor gives us this mystery box crap every day. Whatever ingredients are inside, you have to cook something with it."

"That's harsh," Lavi said, taking a look around the shop's interior. It was American-themed, based on the pictures on the walls. There were pictures of New York on the west block and banners of American football teams on the east. The seats and benches were very diner-like, covered with vinyl upholstery. It gave Lavi a nostalgic feeling.

"Not entirely." he replied, He continued, "We don't bake much except on Thursdays. It was more frequent on my first year."

"I don't think I can survive in there. And here I am, thinking about shifting."

Kanda's eyes went large before looking at the man across him with surprised, horrified blue eyes. He almost spat out his coffee. He repeated in disbelief, "S-Shift…?"

"Yeah, to Culinary!" Lavi replied eagerly, absolutely loving the severe change in Kanda's face. "History is so fucking boring. My gramps only forced me anyways." It wasn't exactly true. He liked history if he was studying about it by himself. But his class was boring him to the depths of hell.

"That's ridiculous. You don't know anything about cooking." Kanda arrogantly scoffed. He didn't even know the difference between a soufflé and a mousse! The student thought hopelessly.

"That's why I have you, right?"

Kanda looked away. "Huh. As if I would teach you."

"But I know how I could make you," Lavi said with a flirting wink and a smirk.

Lavi's foot was probably swelling pretty badly up to that point, another umbrella tip shattering his toes. He finally made a decision to stop hitting on him whenever he had his umbrella with him. Their little date didn't last long. It had rained that night and it gave Lavi the opportunity to escort Kanda home—which he deliberately refused right away. The rejection made him want to buy a car as soon as possible.

 _By the afternoon of the third week_ , the small French city became quiet again. And Kanda loved the place even more. The flower shops were closed, couples were nonexistent, lines were back to normal, the traffic lessened, shop prices decreased and there were no cupids randomly shooting people—though he was unaware that the angel in diapers actually hit both him and Lavi during that night on Valentine's Day. He was relaxed until he remembered that it was going to be Lenalee's birthday the next day and he had no idea what to give to the young lady.

"I haven't thought of anything yet!" Lavi groaned, dropping off on the chair across Kanda. It became his usual place, like how Kanda had his own little area in the coffee shop. He didn't reply. Lavi expected much. "She'll come back from her ski trip tomorrow noon. I don't think I have much time. I tried the national sales the other day. I couldn't breathe. It was a hellhole."

Kanda only gave a sign that he was listening, nodding very slightly and looking at the redhead from time to time. But he seemed to be avoiding eye contact. Lavi mentioned that Lenalee's brother gave her two tickets to a skiing trip in Courchevel. Komui's intention was to go with her, but he was too late when she eagerly picked up her phone and invited a mysterious friend. She didn't tell whether it was a boy or a girl. Either way, Komui had the intent to find out.

Of course, Lavi had a vague idea on who it was. He knew everything. He could already guess by merging Lenalee's small stories and chitchats. He assumed the friend was a boy, probably around her age, somehow new to the place and might be a schoolmate of hers. It almost scared him how he could figure that out, especially when he was aware that he was not the analyzing type.

Kanda knew this, too, having been forced to listen to Lavi every afternoon—except Wednesdays, wherein he visited the shop early morning instead. He had no class on those days. Kanda didn't seem to mind the new companion, though. He found it quite comforting, honestly; although he wouldn't admit it to himself nor out loud. He had been going to that café alone for a very long time. Having someone to sit with was something that needed some getting used to.

Lavi watched as Kanda brought out his Galaxy Note 2. The mainframe was larger than his palms when Kanda held it. Curious, Lavi pushed his chair closer to Kanda, wanting to peer in what the other one was doing.

"Pudding?" Lavi asked with uncertainty, moving his head closer to Kanda's.

"No," Kanda said harshly, "It's a mousse cake. Haven't you learn anything?"

"I thought mousse and cake are different."

"The mousse is the creamy foam on top the cake. It's mousse only when it's mousse. It's mousse cake when it's on top of a cake."

"You're making my head hurt," The redhead complained, examining the pictures appearing on the browser. "What are ya searchin' for anyway?"

"A recipe," he replied monotonously.

 _The day after was a little different._ Kanda arrived awfully early on the shop, so early that none of the employees were present, except for the head chef, Jerry. The shop was still closed and would not open until eight—also the time when the other restaurants and cafés in their row would open.

"Good morning! Don't have school today?" Jerry greeted and asked so energetically even though the sun had not come up yet. Kanda did not greet back but shook his head instead. It was a Wednesday and he was free for the day. He walked past the older chef, along with two paper bags of mysterious groceries, and headed straight to the back—where the kitchen was to be found.

"I'm borrowing the kitchen," Kanda said with a monotone pitch, grabbing an apron from the hanger and hanging it over his lower body. He still wore his regular school uniform which consisted of a white double-breasted coat with black piping and a pair of trousers with a grayscale houndstooth design.

Jerry, with much enthusiasm, replied, "Help yourself, dear!"

Jerry, who was of Indian descent, had dark brown skin, flashy bright hair in cornrows and a perpetual pair of sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose. He became the head chef when Kanda was twelve. Even though Kanda always thought of him as an overly-flamboyant man, he respected him greatly for being a remarkable chef. "The man can cook anything!" Everyone seemed to constantly declare. He remembered the first time he met the odd cook. He was very young, probably around eleven or twelve, when Jerry cooked him his very first Japanese-styled noodles. Jerry thought he was the most adorable Japanese boy he had ever seen and made the decision to make him feel at home by preapring something native. Unexpectedly, at first bite, Kanda fell in love with it and _soba_ became his favorite, not having to taste something like it.

Kanda, still reminiscing, was rummaging through the high wooden cabinets when he asked, "Where're the mixing bowls?"

Jerry shouted from outside the kitchen, "Plastics at the bottom drawers and the steel ones on the upper cabinet."

The young cook found the stainless steel mixing bowls, preferring it since it was heat-proof and was more ideal. He took out all his groceries, and placed it carefully on the counter, one by one. He grabbed four white eggs, cracked them skillfully on the bowl without mixing in the whites—which he reserved for later. He mixed in some water, few drops of Cognac, and two tablespoons of white sugar.

When Kanda began beating the mixture upon a saucepan, the café door's golden bells rang twice. He heard an exchanging of good mornings outside the kitchen. He recognized the voice.

The kitchen doors opened, "Good morning!"

The boy didn't reply and only nodded. It was only Johnny Gill, a product development engineer working in one of Komui's other companies. Kanda could describe him as clumsy and terribly awkward, but was willing to help just about anyone. He was a rather short man, even though he was way older than Kanda. He wore headphones above his bed of curly brown hair, had that very exceptional American complexion and wore large circular glasses. He mostly worked part-time as the technical support, plumber, electrician and everything else in between.

Johnny was putting his things in his locker when Kanda finished whisking the initial mixture. He paused for awhile, scrutinizing the three different bittersweet chocolates he set neatly on top of a clean counter. He looked as if he was in deep concentration which made Johnny stare at him, confused.

"Johnny! Start setting up the tables outside!" Someone ordered from the dining area. Kanda didn't notice more people came in but he could clearly distinguish the strong Australian accent of Reever Wenham. It was almost springtime, which meant that they could start putting the tables outside the restaurant.

The café always had the taste of everything—the best of both worlds. They had no problems with international tourists since they were pretty ethnically diverse themselves. They were like a typical Parisian family—despite the vast cultural differences. They specialize in everything, having to work in a well-known coffee shop in a famous boulevard in the city. Restaurants and cafés in their street could not afford untalented staff.

Of course, they weren't the only members of the family. There were other regulars like Kanda. His own uncle was one of them, but he was more of a special customer rather than a regular. He was a famous painter after all, known in countries Kanda had never been before. Tideoll barely came to the place, having to travel to different places, being invited to exhibitions and parties in remarkable parts of the world.

Reever went to the kitchen. Kanda saw the look of surprise from the man.

"Hey, you're early," the older man greeted Kanda but never received a greeting in return. He knew the fact that Kanda was a boy of few words—everyone did. So they weren't bothered by his lack of responses at all. Reever knew he hardly talked to anyone and was only a tad bit talkative with Lenalee and no one else. The blond only smiled and went back outside, letting Kanda do whatever.

Kanda was still concentrating on what chocolate to use when there was an exceptional noise outside. The café bell rang again, but very strongly. The door banged when it closed. And Kanda could already guess who went in. He stopped what he was doing for some reason and began listening to the voices outside the galley. He could not understand it, but it was comprehensible.

"You're early today," He heard Reever say.

"Yeah, ya know me. It's a Wednesday! I need to be early on Wednesdays especially since—" Kanda couldn't hear the rest and was followed again by Reever.

"Well, do we have a surprise for _you_."

Jerry continued, sounding very cheerful, "Try going to the kitchen, sweetie."

Kanda gasped soundlessly in surprise and hurriedly attempted to look busy by whisking the bowl filled with cream again; although it was over-mixed already.

Then, the steel kitchen doors burst opened, giving the large windowless room a few rays of sunshine from the forthcoming sun, along with the café's very own figure of sunshine—Lavi. Reever, Jerry and Johnny followed the one-eyed man to the kitchen, wanting to see Kanda's expression.

"Yu!" Lavi yelled in sheer happiness, smiling like the morning sun. " _Bonjour_!"

The tall man threw his arms on his side, attempting to hug the man who wasn't mutually happy to see each other, but Kanda moved out of the way, giving Lavi only air to embrace. Kanda sighed before warning him, "If you still want your hand attached to your wrist, you better not do anything stupid."

"Oh?" Lavi only smiled back and asked mischievously, "What're ya doing?"

Kanda ignored the question and focused back on what chocolate to use. He was looking at the wrapper's writings on the back. Lavi tilted his head, wondering what the young man was doing. Lavi dropped his bags sloppily on the ground and walked over to Kanda, scrutinizing at the chocolates on the counter.

"Chocolate?" he asked, noticing various ingredients and food on the counter, mixing bowls filled with cream, and knives and utensils set neatly on one side.

"I'm making a chocolate mousse cake." he nodded. Lavi replied by making an impressed noise.

"For me?"

Kanda tried not to blush, "N-No! Don't be so cocky. I'm not doing this for you."

"Who's it for, then?"

"For Lenalee." Kanda added, "It's my gift."

"Oh, cool. What's wrong with the chocolate? It'll melt if you stare at them with your warm blue eyes."

Kanda then slapped him with a cake knife lightly, but hard enough to hurt. Lavi yelped in pain and was caressing his reddening cheek. Kanda muttered, "The chocolates I brought were a little dull. I shoud've bought new ones."

Lavi looked over the brands, still nursing his cheek, " _Dull_? Don't you mean expensive? Bonnat, Valrhona, and Michel Cluizel? Are you _kidding_ me?"

Kanda looked at him crossly and slapped him behind the head. "It's not about the price! It's about the cocoa content. The more the cocoa, the more flavorful the chocolate will be."

Lavi apologized quickly, not wanting to get the boy in a bad mood early in the morning. When Kanda finally decided to use the Valrhona brand, he took another bowl and combined the egg whites he set aside earlier and mingled it with a cream of tartar.

"I want to help!" Lavi demanded with even more energy than Jerry.

Kanda stopped and looked at him. He couldn't help himself from comparing Lavi to an excited six-year-old, thrilled to bake his very first cake. Lavi's jaded eye shone with enthusiasm that Kanda couldn't do anything but sigh and allow the silly redhead to help.

Lavi grabbed a nearby apron, not caring who owned it (It was Jerry's) as Kanda sighed for the second time before folding the sleeves of his uniform to make it shorter and to avoid the stains.

"What's my new task, _capitaine_?" Lavi asked readily, his eye gleaming.

Kanda was chopping his preferred chocolate bar into tiny pieces when he said, "Mix these with that mixture over there. Whisk it until it's smooth. Don't mess this up."

Lavi saluted playfully. "Sir, yes, sir!" Kanda stopped chopping the chocolate and dashed it over to Lavi's direction, signaling him to put it in the mixture. He did as he was told to while Kanda was busy preparing the secondary mixture.

The other people in the room—besides Lavi and Kanda—watched the scene attentively. They had never seen Kanda interact with someone like that other than Lenalee. They had always considered the young girl special for being the only one who could tolerate the man's indifference. But since Lavi came, he'd probably replace Lenalee as the special one. Suddenly seeing Kanda gain the patience to teach the most stubborn and dense redhead in the planet made Reever vaguely bewildered.

Reever whispered, so only the Indian and the American could hear, "Kanda seems to like him. Don't you think?"

"It's so weird seeing him like that," Johnny answered, smiling half-heartedly, still shocked that Kanda was actually interacting with someone so casually.

Jerry nodded a few times and sighed contentedly. "I, for one, think it's cute."

Their conversation stopped when Lavi shouted suddenly, turning their attentions back to him.

"Yu! I think I did something wrong…!" Lavi worried. Kanda approached him as the redhead showed him the mixing bowl filled with lumpy chocolate mixture instead of the needed smooth texture.

Kanda looked at the bowl, then at Lavi and suddenly dropped his shoulders. "It's normal. We used dark chocolate. It has the tendency to form lumps. Something must have gone wrong with the melting."

"What should I do with this? Will ya have to do it all over again?" Lavi asked nervously. He was a little afraid that the smaller man would get mad.

"No," Kanda said, reaching out a jar of coffee behind him. Lavi raised a brow at it.

"Coffee?" he asked.

Kanda didn't move and just added two tablespoons of coffee into the bowl. Lavi could only stare in amazement when Kanda took the lead and mixed the cream expertly. It didn't take long until the mixture turned from lumpy to smooth.

"You're amazing…!" Lavi said, largely astonished, spurting out words carelessly and widening his eye. Kanda's eyes widened and he could feel himself blushing. No one ever complimented him in his cooking, especially when the people around him—in his school—were also incredible and more competent than him.

Jerry, who was the only one left watching the two, smiled and rubbed his chin. He could barely talk to Kanda and could barely teach Lavi anything. They were a perfect match. The head chef watched them as they bicker like a couple, Lavi acting as an obedient errand boy, and Kanda getting mad and shouting at him. He watched how they mixed the bowl together, how they put some crushed walnuts on the mixture, how they exchanged words and how they interacted. It fascinated Jerry to a great extent—seeing Kanda all friendly (if he could call it that) and sociable with no hostility present. At last, Jerry saw them finished the mousse mixture, decorated the pre-made cake with it and put it in a fridge.

 _Lenalee wore a smile when she entered the café a couple of hours later._ Lavi was the first to greet her a happy birthday, and the whole staff next. Kanda didn't greet her and instead served the chocolate mousse he and Lavi had made earlier that day. Lenalee thanked the boy and gave him a small hug. Lavi, however, gave her a small pink box wrapped by a ribbon with a darker shade of pink. When the girl opened it, a simple bracelet, which Lavi acquired from the national sales, was inside. She then thanked the redhead and gave him a hug as well.

The others also gave her gifts and it was the first time Lavi had ever seen her so touched and almost teary-eyed from happiness. After midnight, when the shop closed, Komui threw a large party for the girl, complete with thick layers of confetti, food that were from the shop, cake that Kanda especially made, a live band he had found playing in the streets in the 4th arrondissementand seven dozens of gifts only from him. Lenalee couldn't contain her tears and cried tears of joy. The night ended with the café family singing a French birthday song to the Chinese young lady.


	3. Bouillabaisse

* * *

**Recipe Three**

**March**

_**"Bouillabaisse"** _

* * *

_**Ingredients:** _

_10-12 pounds assorted whole fish (avoid oily fish)_

_4-5 pounds of assorted baby fish_

_3 leeks or medium-sized onions_

_1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil_

_8 cloves of garlic, chopped coarse_

_1 cup white wine_

_5 ripe tomatoes, chopped coarse_

_1 medium-sized_ bouquet garni

_1/4 cup Pernod or Ricard_

_1/2 teaspoon saffron threads_

_1 pound New Zealand mussels_

* * *

_The first Tuesday of the third month probably_ _wasn't what Kanda expected._ He was cleaning his counter; brushing and wiping continuously in a vertical pace and had no intention to stop until he was completely convinced that the counter was stain-free, when the chef walked into the room with his small feet which came too disproportionate with his overweight frame. Chef Bruce Peroché was an especially cheery Frenchman, easy on the eyes and possessed the very essence of kindness.

Food was his passion; his body as big as his talent in cooking which gave him the inspiration to teach. He had a flaxen, thick mustache covering most of his upper lip, a belly blown up like a balloon, skin almost as red as shrimps and a face adorned with deep pair of dimples. He was very close to his students that they had the authority to call him endearing nicknames. 'Chef Peroché' was the most common way to address him, used by the students who held great respect and admiration for him. Meanwhile, ' _monsieur cochon'_  was a funny pet name the students came up with. Chef Bruce took no offense and seemed very agreeable to it.

Loudly, he clapped his hand once, gathering everyone's attention, Kanda included. "I have the most exciting news," he declared, wearing a V-shaped smile which made his cheeks tubbier. He spoke in English, but still spewed a thick French accent. He spoke his native language often but it was more Parisian than Provençal. He was said to be born in Provence and lived there until he traveled to Paris for university studies when he was only sixteen. That would probably explain his altered way of speaking as he was already in his mid-forties. The stout chef walked over to the center of the room, puffing his white toque with his round fingers. "We have a new addition to our class."

There were several students who transferred during the middle of a semester. They weren't unusual, especially in his side of the university. Going back to his business as well as ignoring the chef's excitement, Kanda didn't particularly notice a rather tall figure striding through the door towards the middle of the room, showing off a coy grin and an exceptional raise of a brow. The soaring man stopped next to the chef and turned forty-five degrees around to face the crowd.

"He shifted from the College of Arts and Letters. And—"

He stopped listening. Kanda's eyes tapered. Why did College of Arts and Letters sound so familiar to him? He heard it from somewhere. He just couldn't quite remember. The ignorant young man shrugged, his back facing the chef and the transferee. He chose to pay no heed to the new student which was frankly the same thing he did to all the others, seeing that he never really  _was_  interested in any of his classmates. It wasn't as if he disliked all of them. He just preferred to work alone. Focusing would be much easier that way. He couldn't afford to waste his time. His uncle was paying big money to get him to a good university—not that his Uncle Tiedoll actually needed to work  _that_  hard for his tuition. Money was easy breezy for him. But the only way Kanda could repay the man's kindness was to at least finish studying, find a great job and live by his own income.

"Why don't you introduce yourself, young man?" He heard the chef say.

"Hey, everyone. I'm Lavi Bookman. I used to be in History, but it's _way_ too boring there. I thought it would be nice to shift to Culinary. Nice change of pace."

The hauntingly familiar voice; loud and lighthearted made Kanda stop suddenly, his arms halting midway through his cleaning as his pupils dilated and his eyebrows flashed. He might've stopped breathing for a moment but he was in a serious state of incredulity to even bother to notice. "You have  _got_  to be  _kidding_  me—" He whipped his body around making his long ponytail sway charmingly, only to be greeted by the handsome features of the ever-so-cheerful Lavi.

The only difference was that the green-eyed man wasn't wearing his usual uniform Kanda was so accustomed to. He hadn't seen Lavi wear anything other than the café's waiter outfit and his usual V-neck long sleeves. It was a little surprising seeing Lavi all dressed up with the same uniform as his; a white double-breasted jacket and checkered trousers. Except Lavi conceived a dislike to the trousers—or the entirety of the uniform itself since it was so bland—that he wore denim blue jeans instead. He had his usually unkempt forelock pushed back by a green bandana which made his paprika hair stand out more, infusing a sudden flash of color to the somewhat unsaturated room.

A pair of disbelieving blue eyes blinked several times before it flared with animosity. He must be in a nightmare. He even pinched himself to be sure. Out of all the ten-thousand students in the university, out of all the five classes in Culinary Arts, Lavi just  _had_  to transfer to his class. ("How did he even manage to do that? Doesn't it take a lot of paperwork and kissing the dean's ass to shift?") Kanda remembered Lavi mention something about transferring, but he never thought that the redhead would actually  _do_  it.

Lavi, on the other hand, looked around, his uncovered eye traveling from left to right before finally finding the figure of Kanda, who was already looking at him with an expression he couldn't quite make out. His lips curved into a smile as he started to notice the different people in the crowd. They threw him different looks; some were interested; eyes glistening with curiosity, and some were just apparently talking about how uncanny he looked, eyepatch and all. He could tell that a few of them didn't even understand him.

The redhead was undoubtedly attractive enough to make the young women mumble amongst themselves. Kanda could hear three girls whispering and giggling beside him. "He's kinda cute!" and " _Oui, oui!_ " they would say and some more endearing phrases that came along those lines. It was nauseating. He didn't even know why. His eyes gazed at the opposite direction. He grunted in despair, observing the world outside the window to shift his attention from Lavi.

The indifference Kanda was forging was soon noticed by Lavi, his welcomed smile turning into a displeased frown. When the chef finished his introductions, Lavi almost immediately marched toward the black-haired student and greeted him in the loudest possible way.

Kanda's eyes turned wide when everyone almost simultaneously turned to them with an expression the same as his. His face was heating up. Normally, they would only look at him like that if he did something extraordinary during exercises. It worried him, too, having maintained a remarkable reputation throughout his years in college, being that aloof, talented, quiet young man who was never interested in social relationships. But now that Lavi (purposely) succeeded to create a large crack in his glass image, Kanda feared his classmates would think more tenderly about him and even try to be friends with him. The thought made him shudder.

 _Kanda spent the first class mouthing off at Lavi._  In the eastern corner of the very spacious kitchen was an area made to have wooden chairs and tables on it, acting as a little classroom in case of lectures. All they had to do was to listen to their educator and write notes. There were no hands-on activities that day, much to Kanda's relief, since he wouldn't want the eyepatched man to pester him during the exercises. Teaching him how to make a mousse was terrifying enough. Lavi's face slumped, obviously disappointed not having to cook on his first day. And he made Kanda his emotional outlet by talking to him non-stop. The redhead probably thought that the only thing they had to do in class was to cook and bake and cook…

By then, Kanda found it extremely hard to concentrate. It wasn't because Lavi kept talking to him all the time; it was because of the stares he was getting from his classmates. He could tell each one of them was both amused and surprised that Lavi acted so comfortable with him. The transferee was trying his best to talk quietly so that only the two of them could hear their own voices. The lecturer didn't seem to notice, too focused on writing something about inflation on the whiteboard whilst holding a thick blue book.

"My  _bac_  level is high," Lavi said when Kanda asked how he managed to transfer so easily, shifting on his seat to get closer so Kanda could hear him better. "So I tried for a scholarship. I don't have to pay for anything here." The pale man stared at him. Kanda blinked several times, giving off an impression that he didn't believe every word the redhead said. The words "high  _bac_  level" and "Lavi" didn't quite mash up. "Not that I have money problems. I just don't want to rely on the old man too much. Or better yet, he doesn’t want _me_ to rely on him.He's the one who got me that job in the café, though. He's friends with the manager or something. I guess that's something to thank him for."

Kanda looked back at the instructor with half-closed eyes, pondering how different they were. He relied a lot on his uncle while Lavi refused full support from his grandfather. It wasn't like he had a choice. His adamant uncle insisted.

The lecture for the whole day was about accounting and management, a little bit of economics here and there. Kanda could say it was the fastest class he had ever been. He was even surprised to see the clock already pointing at twelve. His head leaned down to look at his completely blank notebook and an unused Parker pen. One eye twitched, realizing he hadn’t written a single note. He didn't pay attention to a lecture. That was surely his first. And a certain redhead was to blame. Strangely, he didn't mind. It actually gave him a sense of freedom.

The professor bid his  _adieu_  and left. Kanda then went to the stations to get his things. Lavi literally jumped over a kitchen counter toward Kanda and placed his hand on his shoulder. Kanda recoiled at the touch and shook it off.

He hissed, "Don’t touch me."

"Are ya heading to the café, Yu?"

Disbelieving eyes all started at the two of them. Kanda's golden reputation shattered with just one phrase. He cursed the other man. Everyone then wondered why Lavi was still alive and kicking even after calling him by his first name.

 _All the employees of Le Gris Café had their eyes wide as saucers when they saw Kanda enter the café with Lavi_. And that was just one of the few things to be surprised of. Jerry had already gotten out of the kitchen when Johnny called him, just to peek at the two men, who were wearing the same uniform, walking together. He bucked his hip to the right and placed his left hand on his waist. "Well, Lavi looks absolutely charming today, doesn't he," He said with a two-note tune, grinning, his eye probably shining behind his black, sharp sunglasses.

"Did Lavi…does Kanda…how did he…?" Reever, clearly confused, sighed and scratched the bridge of his nose. He walked back to the kitchen as he muttered, "I  _just_  don't know what that kid is thinking."

Kanda sat down on his own little corner of the café, dropping his bag beside him. Alternatively, Lavi smiled at him before heading excitedly toward the kitchen, giving off the assumption that he'd be bragging about his transfer or his cool new uniform. Kanda was then left alone, which gave him the chance to relax, slump back on his seat, massage his temples and bring out a loud, frustrated sigh.

The employee's lounge was at the second floor of the building. It was too large for a just a hangout for the employees yet it seemed even bigger than Lavi's entire apartment unit. There were a few lockers on the east wall, the second half located in the kitchen, Lavi remembered. There was an LCD TV and DVD player on top of a long, horizontal desk with drawers filled with various DVD's brought over by the staff. Two comfy couches sat across each other, along with complementary armchairs. Three wooden chairs were tucked underneath a rectangular dining table, and another chair by a fridge which was only used to lunches brought over by the staff. Lavi was starting to think that the café cared more for their employees rather than their customers.

He walked over to his locker and changed into his waiter uniform which consisted of an elegant black vest over a white, long-sleeved dress shirt and black slacks beneath a waist apron. It was very monochromatic for someone as bright as Lavi. He took off his bandana and clipped his one side of his forelock back, to make him a little more presentable. To finish up, he hastily put on a black tie and tucked it under his vest. A minute after he was done dressing, Reever barged in with arms crossed and a scowl on his face.

"Spill," Reever simply said.

"Spill? Where? Isn't that the work of a busser?" Lavi cunningly said as he brushed off the lint that stuck to his slacks. Reever kneaded his forehead. He wasn't even sure if the young man was being sarcastic.

"You're lucky I assigned you as a waiter instead of a busser."

"Oh, come on. Does this face look like a busser?" Lavi tried to pull off a seductive expression but failed awesomely. "A café like this needs an attractive waiting staff."

"That's not the point here," Reever replied, sitting down on one of the armchairs. "Did you just shift to Culinary Arts?"

"I might've." He shrugged, wanting to give the assistant manager the benefit of the doubt. He grinned childishly.

"Bloody hell, when was this?"

"I filed a request few days ago," he answered, pushing the student chef uniform forcefully into his already full backpack. "I didn't expect it to be that easy, really."

"We promised Bookman to look after you. If he finds out—"

"Then don't tell him," Lavi disrupted. He held his hands up in reassurance. "He won't know, I promise. I'll shift back before that happens." He smiled as if it was as easy as making pie. He stood firmly in front of a mirror, twisting his body to check on some flaws before tying his shoes.

"The uni isn't your playground, Lavi." Reever shook his head in disapproval. "How could the school let you shift, anyway?"

"Didn't you know I passed the  _bac_  with flying colors? I have the right to be pissed if they didn't accept my request."

Reever rolled his eyes, but was secretly impressed at the same time. "Fine. But if Bookman calls one day and asks about you, I'm not going to hesitate telling him about your little boy crush."

"That's harsh," Lavi said with a face sagged with hurt. He swayed a finger at the Australian to further emphasize his half-hearted denial. "I wouldn't call it a boy crush."

"Then how would you explain it? You shifted because of Kanda, right? How's that not a boy crush?"

"I just want to be with him more often. That's all."

"You just made it worse."

Lavi bit a section of his lower lip with his front teeth and released it. "I can't exactly pin-point why or how, okay? You could at least call it a bromance or something."

"Sure, except you're not entirely straight."

It was like he was the in the center of the dart board and Reever hit the bull's eye. Lavi faked a sniffle even though his nose was entirely empty. He narrowed his eye at him, "What’s up with you? You're really mean today."

Reever sighed. "It's Komui. I think he ditched his own business. He barely comes here to work."

"What, your little boy crush hanging at the edge of a cliff?"

Reever threw him a spiteful look. Lavi only held a smirk of triumph. "Go back to work before I make you clean the bathrooms."

"Jesus, I'm just kidding."

When Lavi went down, he saw a huge crowd—which wasn't all surprising. But even with the enormous amount of people, it seemed so quiet. An Édith Piaf song playing was the only thing that could be heard aside from the very silent conversations that the customers were having. That was probably one of the things that Lavi loved about France. The French would spend hours and hours just sitting, with a cup of  _café au lait_  as their only companion. He had worked shortly for a breakfast place back in New York where everybody was so busy and in a hurry that they had to gulp down their cup of coffee in one go.

Tourists were not a rare sight in the café. Lavi would sometimes play as a waiter who didn't know how to speak in English, just to see how they would deal with it. There was once a group of obese, middle-aged, American ladies who stopped by and asked for a menu. They were loud and mad and just plain rude. They left ordering nothing and even shouted that the place was horrible. The women had probably thought the staff didn't understand when they were the most fluent English-speakers in Saint-Germain-des-Prés. When Johnny told him that story, Lavi was thankful he wasn’t there during that time.

Lavi first went to the kitchen to get Kanda's order; which he guessed to be tea with a butter croissant or crème brûlée. Kanda didn't seem to mind whatever bread Lavi was set on giving him. The important element was the beverage. Lavi knew this and had developed the ability to guess what Kanda would want every day. And looking at his tired blue eyes, the redhead could tell the man wanted tea rather than coffee. Milk? No. Green? His lashes flicked. Black, maybe? Lavi then observed him more keenly. A little sigh escaped from his slightly parted lips. Ah, Oolong Black Tea.

"How do you do that?" Kanda asked with an interested tone when the one-eyed waiter arrived with his small meal; a cup of Oolong Black Tea and a small plate of a freshly baked almond croissant, together with a receipt tucked underneath the saucers, setting the glassware one by one, gently and gracefully.

"Do what?"

"This," He replied, making a swift wave of a hand over his simple little banquet, referring to Lavi's amazing sixth sense.

"Don't tell anybody, but…"Lavi bent over slightly, shadowing over Kanda's seated position. He looked to his right then the left before jokingly whispering, "I can read minds."

He thought the meticulous student was having a bad day. So the next thing that happened didn't actually cross Lavi's mind. His first expectation was for Kanda to roll his eyes, curse him, or stomp on his foot, even.

He laughed.

Okay, maybe it wasn't exactly a laugh. It was more of a deep, one-syllable sound that came from the back of his throat. It wasn't loud nor was it obvious. He had to purse his lips to keep his mouth closed, the air only being released by his turned-up-shaped nose. It wasn't even close enough to be considered as a chuckle. It was probably along the lines of an optimistic scoff. But his lips did curve into a very inconspicuous smile though.

Lavi grinned. He looked wide-eyed at him with an expression saying, "You just laughed."

The other man had his eyes round, frowning instantly, his pale face reddening. "I didn’t."

"I've never heard you laugh before." His grin was getting wider.

Kanda simply looked bemused. "I didn't _laugh_."

"Yes, you did." A glare was thrown at him.

"You're imagining things," Kanda replied promptly. Lavi opened his mouth for a retort, but Kanda cut him off before he could speak. "Customer," he said, using his eyes and a haste push of the head to point at a table few tables behind Lavi.

"Clever," he told Kanda. Lavi raised his index finger. "I'll get back to you later."

Looking behind, Lavi noticed a man, perhaps already in his fifties, with the menu face down on the circular glass table. He immediately went to ask for his order. The man ordered red wine and light dinner. After the man had said his thanks, Lavi's vision went back to Kanda who was already sipping his tea as he looked outside the window. It was beginning to get dark, the orange sky slowly turning into pink, and then shifting into hyacinth hues.

An hour later, Lavi asked, "Why don't you sit outside for a change?" The other person didn't reply and just sipped his second refill of tea. "I mean, it's spring now. It's warm and cold at the same time. It's windy. And the lights are just… beautiful." Lavi shifted his gaze from the glass pane to Kanda. And just by looking at him, the city lights seemed to disappear behind him, the radiance blurring in his vision.

The mention of the word 'outside' made Kanda turn his head to the side to look at the streets, bustling with activity; lights blinking warm hues, people walking unhurriedly, like they had all the time in the world, wearing their designer outfits and carrying shopping bags. "I never sit outside."

"Why?"

"I feel more… secure here."

 _Lavi looked like a child on his first time at an amusement park the next day._  Their chef arrived early in the morning with his charming smile and said, "Today is Thursday, correct? And I'm sure everybody knows what that means."

"Cook-off!" a student enthusiastically said.

"Right you are, Louis!" Chef Bruce shouted as he mimicked firing a gun at the student using his hand. "It got me thinking that we never had a chance to do cook-offs in pairs…"

Kanda stiffened. He knew what the chef wanted to do.

"We were an odd number, that's why. Well, since Monsieur Bookman transferred, making us twenty-two, how about it, eh?"

The class murmured and cheered with agreement. Kanda was the only one who wasn't that excited. Lavi was beside him, literally jumping in anticipation.

The Chef paused and tapped his chin with his three fingers. "Monsieur Bookman is new. He should be paired with one of our best, _oui_?"

It was quiet. And all the students slowly rotated their spines and gazes to Kanda, who wished his glares could actually kill somebody. The big chef across the room looked convinced.

" _Alors!_  It is settled, then!" He clapped his hands twice. The double doors opened can there came two students, pushing long, horizontal, steel push carts with a huge plastic foil covering it whole, hiding whatever was beneath. " _Vite! Vite!_ Pair up! Pair up!"

Everyone was suddenly full of energy, frantically grabbing each other's arms, claiming each other as partners before anyone could steal them away. The girls paired up with their best friends while the men did the same and paired with their best buddies. There were only three pairs who weren't the same gender. And they were most likely couples. Lavi and Kanda didn't need to move much, seeing as they were stuck with each other. Lavi was all too happy. The other was feeling the exact opposite.

A single clap from the chef made every person stop. "Our theme today…"

"I feel like we're in Iron Chef." Lavi whispered, giggling with excitement, wrapping his arm around Kanda's shoulders.

"I'm gonna burn your face with an iron if you don't shut up." He hit Lavi's sides with his elbow, the redhead's arms withdrawing instantly.

"…is  _la mer_ , the sea!"

Just then, the foils were removed from the carts, revealing different kinds of fish while also letting out a rather fishy, repugnant stench. The whole class reacted negatively, murmuring about how stinky the room was becoming.

"Do whatever you want with it. Experiment a little or go classic. It is up to you!" With that, the chef headed for the door. "You have 90 minutes to finish. I'll be back to judge."

They all began rushing towards the carts where a variety of fish lay, clearly fresh from the markets. It was confusing, and only the experienced could distinguish the fish from one another. It wasn't just fish though. There were other seafoods; scallops, shrimps, mussels, and other black, weird, pointy objects— urchins and sea spiders. The women kept complaining how smelly it was. The men didn't seem to mind, not even bothering to use gloves. There were two weighing scales on each cart. The bigger one seemed to be more crowded.

Lavi waited. He turned to Kanda who looked like he was in deep thought, his arms crossed and his eyes fixed at the argent floor. "Your orders,  _capitaine_."

Kanda ignored him and instead observed his classmates. He saw the counter next to them had shallots prepared. White wine was carried by one of the pair while the other one ran to the counter with a basket of flukes and flounders from the cart. He assumed they would be making Sole Bercy. Kanda turned around. The pair behind them had brought mussels to their counter. One student was already chopping parsley and shallots. Kanda could tell they'd be making steamed mussels. Quickly, he straightened up and took out the necessary utensils.

Lavi still waited.

"You," Kanda said, pointing a rather sharp knife at him. "Go and get the fish."

Lavi began to feel energized, jumping with his toes. "Okay. What kind?"

"All of them."

"You serious?"

"All. Get all the fish. Put it in the basket until they're ten pounds." Kanda then pointed at the counter at their right. "See those small ones? Get those kinds too. They're baby fishes. Get four pounds of those and bring them here."

He was surprised a bit. But he trusted Kanda. Still somewhat unsure, Lavi replied, "…okay?"

The other pairs were already cutting and chopping and there was no longer a crowd at the carts. Lavi took the liberty to get all kinds of everything, careful to follow his partner's instructions, and went back to their counter.

"This is everything in there. There's sea urchin, too. I was scared to touch them. But they're actually really squishy and stuff," Lavi said, dropping the heavy baskets filled with various seafoods on the countertop. He joked, "What are we making? The Pacific Ocean?"

“More like Mediterranean.”

“It’s not an ocean.”

Kanda glared at him. “I _know_ , you little shit.”

“So, we’re making the Mediterranean Sea?”

"Bouillabaisse," He said without looking at him. "We're making bouillabaisse." Lavi still looked confused. Kanda sighed. "It's a fish soup. There are two parts; the bouillabaisse itself and the  _rouille_. I’ll be making broth first.”

" _Rouille?_  Isn't that…?"

"It's not rust, you idiot. It's the sauce." Kanda paused, getting a few spices and glass containers from the cabinets. "And you're going to make it."

Lavi stared and was starting to feel all giddy. Kanda then gave him clear instructions. And even repeated it to make sure Lavi didn't forget a thing. Then, they started. The first thing Kanda did was to sort out the fish they would use and the ones they wouldn't. He took out the mackerels, salmons, and sardines. Lavi couldn't help but ask why. "Mackerels are too oily, except the Spanish ones. Salmon and sardines are too flavorful for this kind of soup." came his reply.

Kanda was no fishmonger, but he filleted the fish with a knife so quickly it was almost beautiful to watch, Lavi could only watch in awe. He got scolded for getting distracted and then focused back to crushing garlic cloves with the side of a wide chef knife.

Kanda ingeniously made Lavi do all the dirty work; gutting the small fries, cutting the gills off the heads and other disgusting labor Kanda had little intention of doing. It wasn't as if he couldn’t do it. Lavi was there by his side and he wanted to take advantage of the boy. Thank heavens the taller boy knew basic cooking skills. At least Kanda didn't have to waste time teaching him every damn thing.

"Finally, we’re cooking," Lavi said, taking out a loaf of white bread from a cabinet, still inside a colorless plastic with the words 'Pepperidge Farms' printed on it. He added, "Didn't know you had lectures too, though."

Kanda's gaze turned to him, then back to the onions he was chopping. A metallic bowl was next to his chopping board, fish bones and heads submersed in cold water which had turned reddish brown due to the blood. "You transferred here just to cook? You’re way beyond stupid."

The one-eyed man only laughed and shook his head while he was removing crusts from the bread. He replied, "Not really. I mean, I can cook anytime I want." He was smiling. He didn't look at Kanda when he was talking, busy turning the bread into crumbs.

Kanda couldn't read him. His actions were just so unpredictable that he was hard to understand. Lavi was the only one who could make him ask things voluntarily. It was starting to confuse him. "Then, why?"

Big, strong hands stopped moving. Lavi asked himself. He was practically searching every sector of his brain for an acceptable explanation. His head raised, then turned slowly to his left where Kanda stood, enchantingly working with a knife. He just wanted to be with Kanda more often. That was the same thing he said to Reever. He tried looking for a more believable and less embarrassing reason. But the same thing came over and over again.

He moved again and decided to cut the bell peppers next. "I just want to…" He trailed off. Kanda would definitely not believe him. Lavi tilted his head to look at the smaller young man; who was staring back with his blue eyes, waiting for an answer. He changed his answer; "I just want to… try something new, I guess."

Something told Kanda that Lavi was not entirely saying the truth. He shrugged it off as unimportant. He didn't want to be concerned at the moment and didn't speak any further. As if that would be enough motivation to transfer, Kanda thought. He scoffed, focusing back at his work. He heated a deep pan on the stove and poured a layer of olive oil on it, throwing in the garlic Lavi had minced. He whiffed the steam until it smelled right. He turned up the heat and added onions. The garlic-y smell was rising up when Kanda asked Lavi to get the all of the fish out of the water and put it in a clean dry pot. Afterwards, he called him again.

"Stir this. I'll just get the white wine," Kanda said, forcefully handing the wooden ladle to Lavi. He added before going to the freezing storage room, "Keep stirring, make sure nothing burns."

Suddenly, Lavi felt like he was given a huge responsibility. He did as he was told. And when Kanda came back, he quickly opened the bottle of white wine, still walking, and poured it almost carelessly to the pot, deglazing the initial sauté so as to avoid the garlic from sticking. He allowed it to simmer.

"Hey, aren't you, like, gonna measure that?"

"I don't need to," he bragged.

Lavi finished with the  _rouille_ _in a matter of minutes_. It wasn't much of a hassle since it only involved a food processor and a bunch of chopped things like onions, bell peppers and bread crumbs. Lavi transferred it to a new bowl and began working it over slowly with olive oil, as Kanda instructed. His partner had to interrupt, mixing in pimentón (which Kanda thought to be very similar to Lavi's hair color) at the last minute, giving the _rouille_ a richer color of orange.

Meanwhile, the bouillabaisse was almost done. After stirring in chopped tomatoes,  _bouquet garni_ , olive oil, a bit of saffron, and a quarter cup of Pernard, he put in the beautiful New Zealand mussels, splashing the dull orange broth with gradient green colors. The seams of flavor was beginning to smell heavenly. The mussels were half-open when Kanda threw in the chunks of assorted seafood—the translucent striped bass, monkfish, and rockfish slowly turning opaque. Minutes more of simmering and they were done with plenty of time left. It was just enough time to make finishing touches.

"Get plates. We're almost done," Kanda ordered, taking the deep pan off the heat. Lavi arrived with the plates and potware. One plate was filled with the bouillabaisse—perfectly cooked seafood drowning in the yellow-orange broth, another plate with the  _rouille_  and toasted bread to accompany it. Kanda threw in a few shredded vegetables on top of the bowl as garnish. Lavi looked over the whole thing, sighing with relief.

“I thought the broth and fish are separated.”

"It varies. I think it just looks more natural this way," Kanda replied, scrutinizing every detail, looking for any mistake or slip-ups. The biggest platter was porcelain and had the large collection of fish; monkfish, John Dory, striped bass, urchins and congers. Kanda intended to combine it with sea spiders. But Lavi complained, refusing to add it, saying it looked more repulsive than appetizing. The golden thick sauce was on a small but heavily-adorned peach pot. The entirely of their dish had a strong scent which took over the whole room, giving the people inside a whiff of that sensational Mediterranean sea breeze. The both of them looked at it one last time.

"We're gonna win this shit for sure."

Kanda couldn't say he wasn't pleased. He was very satisfied of the outcome. His horrible expectations didn't transpire and Lavi was quite the helper, surprisingly. The other pairs were finished as well. Kanda found himself smirking when he was the only one who made bouillabaisse.

It wasn't that long until the chef came in, ringing a bell that came out quite annoying. The students hurried themselves. They had all finished under the time limit and Chef Bruce praised them greatly for their incredible sense of time. Everyone stopped moving, their dishes placed on their respective serving tables, well-made and extraordinarily presentable, plates were clean and unstained. The once fishy smell became a wonderful aroma of the sea.

The chef walked over the counters one at a time, tasting a spoonful of whatever that particular pair made. Some of them were praised while the others were given a "nice try but you should add more flavor next time". There were at least three or four repeats of the same dish. Steamed mussels seemed to be the class favorite. Kanda sighed in relief. When Chef Bruce finally came over to Kanda and Lavi's counter, the redhead stiffened as Kanda stayed calm and just waited.

The stout chef first dipped the one toasted bread onto the golden _rouille_ and ate it, afterwards making sounds indicating it was delicious. Next, he spooned up a cube of what looked like striped bass, getting some of the broth along with it, as he put it in his mouth unhurriedly, giving it a whiff before tasting it. His small eyes then widened and his cheeks blushed, revealing his hazel eyes. He bellowed with praise, "Bouillabaisse! It reminds me so much of my childhood in Provence.  _Magnifique_!  _Magnifique_!" He nodded hysterically and clapped with little sound then smiled. He seemed more than satisfied when the pair thanked him.

“The bouillabaisse and the rouille are a perfect match. Just like you two, _oui?_ ” Chef Bruce teased before going to the next counter with a large happy grin on his face. Kanda felt his face flush unknowingly.

Lavi was smiling from ear to ear. Kanda raised a brow at him.

The redhead asked, "You knew that all along, didn't you?"

"Knew what?"

"That he's from Provence."

Kanda wasn't even aware of that. He flashed Lavi an innocent face. "Not really. I just wanted to use a lot of fish."

Lavi laughed, amused. "You are _so_ adorable."

The comment earned him an elbow hitting his rib.

And a blushing face.


	4. Macarons

* * *

**Recipe Four**

**April**

_**"Macarons"** _

* * *

_**Ingredients:** _

_1 cup almonds_

_1 cup confectioners' sugar_

_5 large egg whites_

_¼ cup superfine sugar_

_½ cup fruit jam or any meringue filling_

* * *

_When Lavi first arrived in Paris, he expected something much, much more exciting._ Paris lured people like honey to Winne the Pooh. His grandfather's work included a lot of traveling, so there was no other choice but to go with the old man. He had to transfer to different schools almost every year and it was hard for him to maintain friendships due to it. Knowing someone for only a year wasn't enough to create a bond thick enough to survive long distance. It was that certain day of the past year, Lavi just got home from school with his New Yorker friends, when his grandfather said, "Pack up, we're moving to Paris."

Thank you, grandpa's wonderful occupation as a historian. Of course, that was enough to make Lavi's eye sparkle and pack his things. Who wouldn't want to live in Paris? It's the City of Lights—and of love, art, cheese, wine, and beautiful French girls. In addition to the fantastic news, his dearest grandpapa mentioned, "We will stay there for a while." It was a long, long time since Lavi heard those words. Usually it would be "in a few days" or "a few weeks or so". But that—that _while_ actually meant years. And who wouldn't want to stay in Paris for many years? Thinking it was a good idea, Lavi agreed instantly and prepared like the flight was on the next day. Like what Audrey Hepburn said in _Sabrina_ — "Paris is always a good idea."

Lavi's expectations included drinking red wine fabulously in classy restaurants, touching every inch of the detailed, historical architecture, living in an apartment filled with elaborate furniture and light blue fleur-de-lis wallpaper, and gold—gold everywhere, _à la Versailles._ But Lavi forgot about his grandfather who would always come up with last minute disappointments.

"I want you to score high in the _bac_. It was a mistake to spoil you all these years so you're going to learn how to live and earn money by yourself. Although I'll be sending you monthly allowance, you're going to work in a friend of mine's place in the 6th. Oh, and you'll be living in an apartment. It's in the 7th arrondissement, so use the Métro to go to work and school. Taxis are expensive and my monthly mail won't have much money for taxis. Your place is small and slightly far from school. It has a nice view, though."

After that painful bombarding, he found himself standing in that small apartment, barely furnished, with a dull wallpaper, and very much alone. Goodbye to wine and restaurants because he probably wouldn't be able to afford it. Goodbye to architecture because going to different arrondissements would take a huge part of his meager allowance. Goodbye to living in luxury since he was stuck in an average apartment in the middle of a residential district. Out of all the places in Paris, he just had to be stuck on the most boring arrondissement. The curtains were stopping light from entering into the sorry excuse of a room. He figured the view would just be apartments and houses and government offices and boring, old—

"Well, holy shit. Would ya look at that…"

Amazed to the point of petrification, he could only stare in magnificence. Well, at least the old man wasn't lying about the view. By his window, he could see the brilliance of the 7th arrondissement and the lovely figure of the Eiffel Tower. If the view was great at day, Lavi couldn't wait to see it at night. That was probably the only thing that made him happy at that point.

He was supposed to work at a place called Le Gris Café first but winded up in another one since he got lost on his first day. He ended up getting a job in a restaurant near the tower. And apparently, having Bookman as a last name could get you into any job in the city. It was surprising how famous his grandpa was in Europe, he wasn't much of an important person back in the States. Sure, he got to appear in History Channel for a few good seconds, but he wasn't quite known in America. Thank heavens the manager could speak English and gave him a few tips around town. His first French acquaintance was the manager, who was also an events manager, and taught him how to use the Métropolitain when he mentioned he was initially assigned to work in a café in St-Germain-des-Prés. The manager suggested he should use the train instead of the taxi since they were said to get more expensive the less French a person was. It was quicker and a heck of a lot cheaper.

The Métro was literally hell on rails. First, Lavi accidentally bought a _carnet_ which already cost him at least eleven Euros, which was already "fourteen-fucking-dollars" as he would say it. It wasn't a bad thing, but he was originally set on buying just one ticket, not ten. Second, it was a few days before November—almost Christmas season, so every person in France was literally on that damn train for some early shopping. Third, it was seven in the morning when he tried riding it—unfortunately; seven was the rush hour of the city. He couldn't wait to get out of the train. As soon as he stepped out of the Métro, he got lost. Again.

One day, he realized he needed furniture. His grandfather spared some money for his material needs and figured he should put it to good use. Technically, he was close to home depots, but, well, he didn't know that so he walked all over town just to find some apartment things. When he realized he was lost again, he tried taking the bus. It was just as bad as the Métro. The traffic was unbearable. At least he got to use his _carnet_ because apparently, the Métro tickets were also bus tickets. In the end, he never got the chance to actually buy anything.

With unpleasant memories on his first days as a Parisian, Lavi's first impression of the capital wasn't that great. His _baccalauréat_ score arrived on his mail and was glad he passed. He went to university every weekday, and then, nothing. Suddenly everything around him was boring. He thought nothing was boring in Paris. He thought that Paris was always a good idea. But there was nothing to do. Buying those adorable macarons was equal to skipping lunch. He wanted to taste one so bad. He was alone and he barely had friends he could hang out with. He couldn't explore the city because he lacked the money, couldn't even spend a night in a fabulous restaurant. To be precise, he was broke and lonely and bored and just really lonely. He wanted to go back to America so much that he actually thought of a plan to escape—which was ironic since France was said to be every man's escapade.

The day he changed his mind to leave the City of Lights was when he found that café he was intended to work for. Bookman called and scolded him for still not getting that job he prepared. Somehow, he wished he could've found it sooner. There was no French employee in sight and everyone working there could speak proper English. They even laughed at his jokes. None of his French classmates laugh at his jokes. And he couldn't tell anyone how delightfully refreshing it felt. His sense of humor never did had its way on the French based on his experience with his schoolmates and his former employment. There, he met the first person who was willing to hang out with him; a pretty Chinese girl named Lenalee. Sadly for him, he couldn't go out with her that much because of her troublesome brother—who also managed the café, putting his only job on the line.

And there he met the most interesting person he had ever met. It wasn't the best first meeting, but he was thankful for it either way. That was when everything completely turned around. Suddenly, the thoughts of ever coming back to the States vanished. Kanda became the biggest reason he stayed in Paris amidst all the poverty and loneliness and traffic and hunger he was experiencing. He wanted to keep working there, and honestly, he wanted to try to live on his own instead of leeching money off from his gramps like he used to. If he gave up, it was like losing to his grandfather's challenge. He was then determined to stop relying on the elderly man. He wanted to prove to his grandfather, to himself, and to Kanda that he could be noble and hardworking at times.

_The 3_ _rd_ _of April was a Wednesday_. Lenalee greeted Lavi with a very wide with her bright eyes and curved lips, she presented a colorful, glossy flyer of an event. Lavi, who had just finished changing into his café uniform and was fixing his tie, raised a brow and looked at the girl with curiosity.

It was a flyer of the Marathon de Paris. Lenalee seemed excited and told him it was next Sunday already. Lavi blinked and thought for a moment. Well, he did want to try going to the international marathon and explore the city, and he was free on the day too, especially since the spring holiday would start. But that would mean he would be losing quite some Euros while he was at it. He had wanted to have some fun in the city he was starting to despise, but he was tired everyday and a marathon would just make him more tired. He scratched his head, hesitating to turn down the young lady. "Ugh, damn it. I'm broke right now, and I'm not quite the runner, y'know…" was his excuse.

He watched how Lenalee kept persuading the other employees if they were willing to go with her to the marathon and how they try their best to reject the nice girl. It was still early in the morning. Lavi and the other staff members arranged the tables outside. It seemed people were more willing to sit outside recently so they added more tables on the terrace. There were only a few people who would be foolish enough to sit inside while spring was beginning to radiate the city. They didn't make a song about April time in Paris for nothing.

The sun just got up in the sky and the café was already crowded both inside and out. The place was busier than the past few days. It took a while before Lavi could rest. A sigh came out from his lips as he tried forcing his legs to go up the steep, narrow staircase toward the employee lounge. He turned up the air conditioner before noticing Lenalee was already inside, sitting on the couch.

"You on break, too?" Lavi asked. She nodded, cheerless. The girl looked sad. Lavi guessed she probably still hadn't found anyone to go with her. "Ugh. I'm so tired I can't feel my fingers anymore. Is the place packed like this during spring?"

"Uhn. It's Wednesday." She bobbed her head. She didn't look at him and was more focused on her cell phone. "There's no school for most kids. And it gets really crowded during April—tourist season, I think."

"Isn't it always peak season here?"

The girl shrugged. "I guess…"

Lavi eyed her and frowned at her lack of interest in talking with him. Was she waiting for a call? Lenalee kept looking at the screen without doing anything and it was starting to worry him. He never liked seeing pretty girls gloom over small things. He wanted to cheer her up. "So, found anyone to come with ya to the marathon?"

She smiled faintly at him, and somehow it broke Lavi's heart. "No, not yet. I think I won't be going anymore." Lavi stayed quiet. He was torn between going with her or resting for the weekend.

Finding the silence uncomforting, Lenalee asked, "Hey Lavi, don't you like marathons?"

Lavi switched his attention to Lenalee. He groaned at the question. "It's not that I dislike it," he said. "I'm just having a hard time here, you know, trying to be frugal and all that stuff. Living in any part of Europe is too expensive. I guess… I'm tired more often than I was in other places I've been. The taxis here are practically _thieves_. Well, it's good to do some walking from time to time."

The girl laughed. "You plan on buying a car, right?"

"I was thinking about that the other day," he said, rubbing his chin as if in deep thought. "But then I thought; the gas would definitely be a problem. Though gas in New York is just as expensive…"

Lenalee gasped in surprise. "You've been in New York? I've always wanted to go there!"

Usually, Lavi hated people who thought New York was the greatest city in the world. He couldn't help but mark Lenalee as an exception though. She looked cute when she was in awe. "Yeah, I used to live there before I moved here. Now that I remember it, there was a huge marathon there last year. T'was too crowded so I didn't participate."

"That's so cool…" Lenalee muttered in amazement.

Lavi chuckled and smiled gently at her. "I'll take you there someday." If that would ever happen, he would make sure she wouldn't know the evil side of the city.

He spent his break talking about the good things in New York. And because Lenalee looked so enthusiastic listening to him, he told her more stories. He left out the bad things like how McDonald's was two times more expensive, how the traffic—both car and foot—was even worse than that in Paris, how he spent half a day trying to find a space to park, how the subways always smelled because it was so dirty, how rude the people are, etcetera. That was why he hated people who thought that New York was the most magical place in the universe when it was really not. He actually liked it more when he stayed in a relative's farmhouse in Iowa for three days.

It was then Reever shouted from behind the door that their break was over. Lenalee was the first to stand up. Her mood had lightened up after all the stories he told. Lavi was relieved.

"Time to go back to work!" She said excitedly, eyes shining. She didn't have the mood to work an hour ago but now the girl seemed energized. "I'm still getting the hang of being a _pâtissier_."

Lavi was amazed how she can be a waitress the past day and be a pastry chef the next. Just what exactly was her work in the cafe? She looked more like a freelancer more than anything. He joked at her enthusiasm, " _Pâtissier_? All you do is help Tapp make macarons."

Offended, Lenalee corrected him, "I-I don't just _help_. I _make_ macarons!" She crossed her arms and added with a tinge of pride, "I make _petits fours_ too! It's really small, you know! So it's hard to make! I have the perfect hands to make them!"

"O—f course you do."

Lenalee pouted at his sarcasm.

"Your break is long finished. Get going already. We need more runners." Feeling a bit ignored, Reever added, "Hey Lavi. Guess who just came in?" Lavi's ears perked and his senses tingled.

He went downstairs and searched for Kanda, but when he glanced at his usual place, he wasn't there and instead a rather fashionable woman was occupying it.

Lavi didn't expect that a new employee would cause a huge discrepancy with his relationship with Kanda. He was in panic. There was no time to think. His gaze traveled to the terrace. Kanda, in all his non-uniform glory, wearing a beige double-breasted spring coat, was sitting at the cafe's terrace, looking pissed as hell.

"Excuse me, um, did I do something wrong?"

The one who questioned him tapped his shoulder, strangely not possessing any signs of regret. The new employee was from a far place he heard, but was still from the Left Bank. He had a very distinct accent, like he wasn't from France, as a matter of fact; the accent wasn't French at all. It was Scouse—a very obvious Scouse. Kid must be from Liverpool.

Lavi answered with a totally unrelated question, "Do you know what the _Brigade de Cuisine_ is?"

Confused, the new employee named Allen Walker just went with the flow, "Umm… no? I don't speak French very well."

The redhead clicked his tongue continuously in pretend disappointment. "You're in the food industry and you don't know?"

"I just got a job here 'cause I need to pay huge debts."

Lavi ignored him purposely. "It's the brigade system of the kitchen." he stopped shortly, trying to create an intimidating pause. The new trainee thought Lavi was just pretending to be knowledgeable about the food industry, as he just recently learned that word two days ago from cooking class with Kanda. "The _chef de cuisine_ is in charge of everything in the kitchen. You know who that is here?"

The boy thought for a few seconds. "Mr. Wenham?"

"Wrong! It's Jerry!" Lavi spun around to face the new kid. "What about the _pâtissier_? Who's the _pâtissier?"_

"Uh… Lenalee?"

"Wro—well, kinda. But she just make macarons, so she doesn't count! She's just a macaron... isier or something."

"Okay…?" The pale-haired boy narrowed his eyes. What a weird guy, he thought.

"What about me? What am I in the brigade?" Lavi stared at poor Allen's eyes like he was about to destroy him if he said the wrong answer. But it didn't work on the newbie, rather, he was feeling regret for getting into his new job at that very second.

"A waiter?" he answered in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Oh. Oh-ho-ho. No, I'm not _just_ a waiter. I'm the Président-directeur Général of Chair-and-Table Vacancy!"

"What the bloody hell is that?" It was only half French and Allen was already confused. The boy couldn't hold the level of strange in the being in front of him.

"You just gave that table over there to a customer!" Lavi pointed at the table by the window—Kanda's corner where a woman sat.

The boy rolled his eyes. "Naturally. She was a customer."

"No! That's not how you do it here!"

"What do you mean?"

"It means you did something very wrong and you just totally ruined my daily chance of gaining plus points!" Lavi's voice changed from fake restaurant manager to heartbroken teenager who just got rejected by the cute girl in school. "Now, go back to the kitchen!"

Lavi went to Kanda's unwanted table but not before getting a tray with a nice cup of Café Noisette and a plate of pink macarons, courtesy of Lenalee. "Yu!" Lavi called out, but not after thinking how the smartly cut coat fitted Kanda. When he set it down on Kanda's table, the man didn't appear so impressed.

He got the coffee right, although he was still incredulous about Lavi's ability to know what to order. On the other hand, the macarons looked rather strange from the ones he would usually make or buy.

"Sorry your seat got taken. It's pretty crowded today, so the other waiters probably gave it away," Lavi apologized, but still wore his radiant smile. "From now on, I'll be your Président-directeur Général of Chair-and-Table Vacancy."

Kanda was confused for a moment and then reddened. He didn't know whether to be grateful or to be mad. "Then do your job better next time."

Aside from the fact that there were no other seats available, Lavi thought it would be a waste to sit inside when it was warm and vibrant. Lavi smiled gently at him. "Come on, it's spring, ya need to get soaked up with some sun after winter."

Kanda looked away from Lavi and took off his coat. His face was heating up for some reason. It must be the sun. "F-Fine. It's not that warm anyway." True; the air was chilly but the sun gave off warmth that balanced perfectly with the cold.

"Right? Sitting here gives you a pretty nice view."

"I can see the same view indoors."

Lavi frowned. "It wouldn't be the same. Inside, you'd be feeling man-made cooling. In here, you feel the natural wind." He smartly replied. "So, how's the macaron?"

"This…" he paused before poking the said macaron with a fork. The pastel-colored dessert almost broke down from its form as the filling began to ooze down. "Who made it?"

Lavi was hesitant to answer. He gulped. Kanda knew something was off. "Well, Lena did. She wants you to taste it. She told me she was a pastry chef, but really, all she can make are macarons..."

Kanda took a bite. He didn't look too pleased. "Undercooked. The crust should be crispy, not soft. The texture should be overall smooth, but there are bumps everywhere. Obviously, she didn't crush the almonds well. It's also over-filled. You better not serve this to other customers. Get me a better one."

The shocked waiter stared at the critic who looked at the macaron with disappointment. "W-Wow, you're really something." He rubbed his neck sheepishly. "I can't… tell her that, y'know. You wouldn't want to hurt her feelings."

"She won't learn if you don't point out her mistakes."

"I'll try my best to tell her that, then." Although, he ended up not saying it to Lenalee.

_And so, Kanda decided to make macarons the following day when they were assigned to bake anything for class._ The chef whose specialty was baking and desserts was Chef Bartolomé—a rather Hispanic woman, fair-skinned, tall with broad shoulders and possessed the habit of biting the hands of her eyeglasses. She told stories of how she worked as a pastry chef in a five-star restaurant in the Sin City after graduating in the Las Vegas branch of Le Cordon Bleu. She was a favorite among the students for being a push-over, although she was strict with uniform regulations.

"Monsieur Bookman. Your pants and shoes are not allowed." the female chef mentioned as soon as Lavi entered the food laboratory wearing blue jeans and sneakers. "Jeans are strictly prohibited! Do you see anyone here wearing pants other than the ones given by the school?" Lavi looked around, then shook his head. Other chefs hadn't had a problem with it. "Next week, I want to see you wearing the houndstooth pants and black clogs. Do you understand?"

"Y-Yes ma'am." He went over to Kanda's counter, sighing.

"Now, let me repeat once again for the latecomers." she narrowed her eyes at them, including Lavi, who was late for ten minutes. "Today is like any other of my Thursdays. You will bake, but without recipes I've given beforehand. I don't care what, I just want to see the food that I will grade will be cooked in an oven, sweet and baked. In short, a dessert. Groups by two's or three's. I don't really care, just give me a paper with the list of the members. Now go, make haste."

Macarons were the dessert Kanda wanted to make. He was always the one who would check and eavesdrop on the other student chefs' plans before making a move, to avoid making the same meal. He heard one of the girls say, "Oh, Elise! Let's make Pots de Creme au Gingembre!". The counter in front of him had two men who was arguing between an Apple Charlotte or a classic Apple Tart.

" _Bonjour, partner,_ what are we making today?" Lavi asked with a trying-hard French accent and leaned on the counter next to Kanda.

Kanda looked sharply at him. "Who said you can be my partner?"

"Me, since I already submitted the paper to our lady chef."

Kanda's eye twitched.

"And besides, lady chef said working alone is not allowed and said you should talk to your classmates more," Lavi added, and smiled at him.

Meanwhile, their chef shouted from across the room, "Monsieur Bookman! Fix your hair! If I see one strand of red hair on your dessert, you two will automatically fail!" Kanda cringed when he heard the word "fail".

Lavi raised his eyes. "Does she mean this?" He asked Kanda, pinching his long bangs with his fingers. He went over to his bag to find his bandana. "Damn, where did I put it?"

A bit irritated that Lavi was taking too long, Kanda grunted in frustration. Then, he saw a flash of green when Lavi turned. He sighed again. Was he such an idiot to forget his headband in the back pockets of his rule-breaking jeans? When Kanda snatched the green piece of cloth, the man didn't even notice. He wouldn't do very well in the pickpocketing streets of Paris. "Idiot, here's your tacky headband." When Lavi turned around, Kanda took him by surprise when he harshly put on the bandana around Lavi's neck, then pushed it back pass his forehead, taking his forelock with it.

Suddenly realizing what he had just done, Kanda's blue eyes widened. He blushed furiously and turned his back on Lavi. "H-Hurry up! We're making macarons, s-so make yourself useful and get some almonds from the pantry!" He ordered, then hurried to the oven, preheating it to toast the almonds.

He didn't know that Lavi was just as red and boyishly covered half of his face with his hands to hide his features. Thank god everyone was too busy preparing utensils to notice them, "Uh, y-yeah, sure, how—how much do ya need?" It was so not like him to stutter and blush like a silly schoolgirl.

"Just a cup."

And so they officially began. Kanda ordered Lavi to do the simple task of separating the egg whites from the yolk and whisking the egg whites. Kanda questioned him when Lavi looked a bit hesitant.

"I'm not really good at cracking eggs," Lavi said, his hands shaking while holding a fragile, white egg. Kanda sighed and just told him to get it over with. He tried to crack one and failed, destroying the shell a bit too much as it oozed down together with the whites. "I told you I'm not good with—"

"Pfft."

He stopped when he spotted a rather evident smile on Kanda's lips. It was obvious he was holding back a laugh. Was he laughing at his failed attempt to simply crack an egg? He looked so adorable Lavi could die. He was blushing furiously by then.

"You're laughing...?"

"Because even a child could crack an egg," Kanda replied, surprisingly not denying Lavi's accusation. The more experienced student chef walked over to Lavi's side and grabbed one egg. "There's really no technique to it. Just tap until it cracks a bit…" he said as he broke the shell slightly on the edge of the stainless steel bowl. "Then use your thumb to separate the shell." Just as he finished explaining, the inside fell on the bowl perfectly, no shell bits in it, yolk unharmed. He noticed Lavi wasn't responding so he faced him, making eye contact.

Lavi was too busy looking at Kanda and not how perfectly he cracked the egg, and so when he tried to do it again, he tapped the egg on the edge of the bowl, but it ended up squished in his hands. He was nervous with Kanda watching him. "Can I just do something else?"

And there he thought Lavi knew the basics. He gutted fishes once, and now he couldn't even crack an egg. Kanda sighed, but not entirely with negative feelings. "You're hopeless. I'll crack the eggs, you whip them."

Instead of using the stand mixer, Kanda gave Lavi the handheld one.

"Isn't it easier to use that one?" Lavi asked, pointing at a neglected stand mixer.

"Easier to control. Try it." Lavi nodded, placing the mixer diagonally on the glass bowl filled with egg whites. Kanda clicked his tongue. "No, stupid, that's not how you mix it. Don't slant it. You don't want to put air into the eggs, so mix it like this." He snatched the mixer away from Lavi's hands and placed it vertically and directly above the bowl.

"Alright." Lavi imitated his actions and pressed the farthest button to the right.

"Wrong. Too fast." Kanda switched it off again. "Start slow. If you don't do this, the eggs would be too fluffy and would make the macarons look like shit."

Lavi rubbed his face with his hands. "Jesus, it's just eggs. No wonder Lenalee always fuck up." He hadn't told Lenalee that Kanda insulted her macarons, but it was a good thing Tapp, the coffee shop's pastry chef, did before he could.

As he mixed with the handheld device, Kanda dropped the confectioner's sugar on the whisked eggs, which was starting to look like really soft marshmallows. "Turn the speed up." Lavi did what he was told and was surprised that when he raised the mixer, the whites turned really stiff and was sticking to the blades.

Kanda didn't hear him when he asked what to do next since he went over to the oven to get the toasted almonds which turned into a lovely brown and emitted a sweet fragrance. Lavi, who was on stand-by, watched Kanda put the almonds onto a food processor, added the sugar, and pureed it. After a few minutes, the almonds and sugar became completely grounded.

Kanda called Lavi's attention. "Make sure everything is dissolved." After Lavi's approval, Kanda mixed in his almond mixture into the whites little by little with a rubber spatula. When Lavi noticed Kanda was getting tired of folding the new mixture on the bowl, he offered to help. He took the rubber spatula and vigorously folded the almond powder over the whites. Kanda stopped him, saying he should do it more carefully as to not let the egg whites overwork.

"Go heat the oven." Kanda told his partner. When Lavi came back after preheating the oven, the shorter man asked, "What color would you like?"

"Huh? Why?"

"For the macarons."

"Green! Mint green!" the one-eyed boy energetically answered, not expecting Kanda to care about what color he'd want his macarons to be. Kanda raised a brow at him, but took a green food coloring anyway. "It's not my favorite color, but I've always wanted to taste those mint chocolate ones, and green really looks like mint."

Just then, one of the pairs that was already finished butted in. "Whoa, you guys are making macarons? Save some for us! We'll give you some of our raspberry cake once it's done."

"Me too! Are you gonna put strawberry in it?"

"Mine's chocolate!"

Lavi thought Kanda would be mad at them, so he was ready to stop him if he wanted to say something bad. But Kanda agreed to the requests. He wasn't such a selfish prick as he initially thought.

"Clean the counters," Kanda told him. "I'll handle the rest." the redhead asked him if he was sure, but replied with angry words and commanded him to just do whatever he was told until the macaronage is done.

While Lavi washed some of the bowls and kitchenware used, Kanda divided the batter into two bowls, one for him and one for Lavi's green ones. After putting a pinch of green coloring onto one of the bowls and sneaking in some pure mint into the mix, Lavi asked him as he washed, "So, what color are yours?"

"Red," Kanda replied, for some reason hiding the mint from Lavi. "Bright red."

"Favorite color?" Kanda just bobbed his head once. Lavi wondered, "Huh, I thought your favorite color was blue, violet, or black, or something." Kanda ignored him, and so Lavi focused more on his cleaning duties. The taller man wasn't aware that Kanda had already put the macaron shells inside the oven.

"Aw, come on, I didn't get the chance to squeeze the bag thingy you use to make the batter shapes." Lavi pouted and stared sadly at the macaron shields being heated inside the oven. "You should've called me."

"You would've fucked it up, so I didn't."

"That's not true!"

"You can't even crack a goddamn egg."

"You're great at teaching me. I might've perfected the damn thing."

Again with the flattery and that candid smile, Kanda fairly blushed and turned away. After ten minutes, he opened the oven to turn the sheet pans around in order to bake the macarons evenly. Another ten minutes, the oven dinged as Lavi helped him take the lovely shells out of the oven, placing it on the counters to let it cool off. The other students began to surround them, offering their finished products.

"Oh, I found some Nutella in the pantry earlier! Can we put that on mine?" Lavi asked, getting all jumpy like a child. "I fucking love Nutella." The French loved Nutella as much as how Americans loved their peanut butter. Lavi sure wasn't French but he adored that lovely, chocolate-y, hazel nut spread.

"Fine, go get it." Kanda agreed. "Take the raspberry jam too."

"Got ya." He left for the pantry, but not before flashing a smile.

Kanda then put some of the hazel nut spread on the bottom of one light green macaron shell, and afterwards pressed the other shell onto it, making it look like a hamburger with green buns and chocolate patties. He did it similarly to his fiery red macarons, only with raspberry fruit jam and whip cream on the sides, then put it in the chiller.

The moment the macarons cooled down and fattened, Kanda and Lavi submitted their work and Chef Bartolomé loved it, although she kept the grade a secret. Then, the students came flooding in and were asking for some. Kanda was kind enough to give them a few, but he reserved specific macarons for him and Lavi.

Kanda's macarons were very different from the ones Lenalee made and finally understood what Kanda meant when he criticized the girl's attempts. One bite from the minty chocolate dessert and Lavi was all over him. "You're so goddamn amazing, damn it!" He took a bite again, to the soft yet crunchy little hamburger-look-alike and realized, it didn't just look like mint, it tasted like mint, too. He wondered and said, "That's weird, I didn't notice you put mint in the mixture earlier." Kanda just kept quiet.

"That's not fair! Why does Lavi's macaron have more chocolate than this one?" One of the female students complained, comparing the piece she was holding to the one Lavi was consuming.

Lavi stopped chewing and again examined the macarons Kanda reserved for him. It _was_ a little thicker than the others. Another one said, "Aw, I want more Nutella too."

Kanda got all flushed and embarrassed and tried to ignore the comments. Lavi found himself smiling. "Oh, Yu. Were you favoring me unconsciously?"

"As if."

Because he was favoring him intentionally.

There was no way he couldn't say that out loud to his face. He heard Lavi let out a low laugh and said cynically, "If you say so."

"Those who are done are free to leave, clean up your workplaces before going," Chef Bartolomé reminded as the students cheered in glee and sighed with exhaustion. They were supposed to be dismissed at four, but since they finished early, they were allowed to leave when it was still one in the afternoon. "And don't forget your little homework! We'll see who'll make the best Meringue Cakes next week!"

When everyone finished cleaning up their work stations and began heading outside, Lavi told Kanda in a soft voice, "Come at the café early tomorrow." After that, he walked ahead of Kanda and opened the door outside, leaving a flushed Kanda inside.

_On that certain Friday morning, Kanda went to the café as told._ It was still very early, yet there were many people vacating the seats inside, warming themselves with coffee. He didn't know what to expect when he arrived, and he sure as hell didn't expect a mysterious box planted on the center of his usual table. He sat down and took off his coat, figuring out whether to open it or not. It was as big as a medium-sized ramekin and when he held it in his hands, it felt light as if nothing was inside. But when he shook the carton, something was definitely rattling in it. Maybe, it wasn't for him. It wasn't like he was the only one who sat at the same spot. He took notice of the words on the top cover: _"Not only do you fill my stomach with the world's tastiest macarons, but you also fill my stomach with these."_

In spite of everything he just read, he still denied it was for him. Perhaps someone made macarons the other day, too? He sighed, giving up. That was definitely for him, and he knew that it was definitely from Lavi. Assured that it was harmless, he opened the red box only to find a horde of butterflies inside. Before he even realized they were butterflies, the beautiful winged creatures flew away all around inside the room, startling some of the customers. No one seemed to mind to the point of complaining. Each and every butterfly was beautiful, each a different color, giving the café the dash of spring that it had been needing, giving the place a rather scenic spectacle.

Kanda couldn't disagree that they looked wonderful, but he couldn't decode the note. "Butterflies…? In a stomach…?" he asked himself. Why would someone even have butterflies in their stomachs? He wasn't quite well-informed with idioms. But he was sure Lavi pulled that little show off. Although he wasn't quite certain what the boy was trying to say. He had never heard of such things being inside a stomach.

"So pretty…!" Lenalee said as he walked over to Kanda's table, looking at the butterflies scattering as she held a tray to her chest. Though, she thought it was a waste when Reever hurriedly opened the doors and windows to let the butterflies out. "I wonder who released them."

"Where's that bastard?" Kanda asked immediately.

She snapped her attention back to Kanda. "Oh, you mean Lavi?" Lenalee looked around. "I think, he's in the lounge—" Before she could finish, Kanda had already made his way to the employee's rest room upstairs, where Lavi was nowhere to be found. Lenalee followed him and was surprised the redhead wasn't in the room. "Huh…I was sure he was here a while ago. He came here when the shop was still closed."

"Never mind. I'm going to class."

Lenalee eyed him suspiciously as the bemused man went down the stairs with loud footsteps and headed straight out.

Going to class didn't help giving him some closure since Lavi did not appear at any of their lectures. He wanted to ask the chef present if he knew why, but that would be something too strange for him to do. Why was he worrying over Lavi for anyway? The guy just gave him a box of butterflies, saying they were in his stomach. That wasn't something to be worried about, unless he really _did_ have those insects in his gut. That would be very unsettling. But it was Lavi he was talking about. He was the kind to play around and do absurd things. In a word, he was very unpredictable.

After going through the lectures without the one-eyed man, Kanda suddenly had second thoughts of going to the café. He wasn't scared, just a little unsure he supposed. He couldn't come up with a way to ask the redhead about the butterflies. His mind had been fuzzy all day—thinking of Lavi's absence and those goddamn butterflies.

He had thoughts of not going to the café at all, but then he realized that he had forgotten his coat when he came by that morning. He refused to go home without that coat. Why? Because it was an Agnés B. coat. Only a mad man could leave an Agnés B. coat. And he was not capable of leaving an Agnés B. coat all alone in a café where anyone could just simply touch its cambresine fabric. He called Reever to keep it in a safe place until his next visit.

That was why he did anyway. It was night time and Le Gris Café was all lightened up with its Art Deco lamps. The bell above the door rang and _bonjours_ were heard. Kanda just nodded his head to them. He would be considered as rude to normal Parisian coffee shops for not saying hello back, but he was part of the café's family and they knew him since he was a child, so they didn't mind anymore. Luckily when he looked around, Lavi wasn't waiting tables, presumably in the lounge or kitchen, getting the dishes for serving, giving Kanda more time to think. He marched to his everyday spot. He reminded himself to ask for his coat once Lenalee takes his order.

"Good evening. What will you be having?"

It felt weird. He wasn't used to being asked anymore. He turned his attention to the waiter. Was he another new employee? He had a scar on one side of the face and looked completely white. He looked like a freaking albino. Kanda wondered why Reever would hire someone like him. He looked young, too, most likely the same age as Lenalee, or younger.

"Get me some coffee, brat," He spat out, not even looking at the offended person beside him.

The waiter, poor Mr. Allen Walker, twitched. He responded politely, fighting back to urge to punch the guy. He was warned by his guardian about how rude the French were. He wasn't narrow-minded and didn't believe it, but meeting Kanda kind of changed his mind. "O-Of course, sir." He walked away. When he was reasonably far from the unfriendly, feminine man, he muttered under his breath. "I cannot _stand_ these bloody French…!"

Allen returned with a simple cup of brewed coffee, but with a little Gris Café twist.

Kanda blinked twice before speaking, "What the fuck is this?"

"Coffee. You said coffee. I presumed it would be the house blend," Allen answered, trying to convince Kanda to just take the damn coffee.

"I—" Kanda closed his mouth to stop. He _did_ say "coffee" and nothing else. He decided to be considerate. He was too accustomed of saying "tea" or "coffee" and then just leave the rest of the specifics to Lavi. Before he could ask Allen to get him a caffé latte instead, a familiar voice interrupted him.

"Yo, Allen. I'll handle this one," someone said suddenly, touching Allen's shoulder.

"Thank fucking god," Allen rejoiced and exited without hesitation.

Ocean blue eyes glanced up to meet a lonely green eye as Frank Sinatra's  _April in Paris_ began to play in the background. How dramatic.

"I'm guessing Allen got you the wrong one?" Lavi fathomed with a nice smile, shadowing over him. He took away the wrong cup. "He's new. Don't be too hard on him. I was new once, so I know the feeling."

Kanda sighed and rubbed his temples. "Just get me another." He was tired from the lectures, and Lavi appearing so sudden like that made his migraine more terrible. He hated lectures, unless they were supposed to help him be better at cooking. But the lecture he just recently endured was all about viruses and bacteria. He practiced safety in food handling, and he got a good grade in food sanitation the previous year, so he found the lecture to be of no use.

Minutes later, Lavi came back with, shockingly, a café latte, guessing it right once again.

Kanda just stared at the cup of brown liquid being covered by a thin layer of foam. Maybe Lavi could really read minds. He wanted to ask so many things, but first things first. Kanda opened his mouth to ask, gulping before doing so, "Hey, what's the deal with that box?"

"Hm? What box?"

"That… that _box_ , with the butte—"

Then Reever called out, "Lavi, shift's over."

Lavi smiled wryly before saying, "I'll be in the lounge if you need me."

"Ah—" Yet again, Kanda could not speak. Maybe he should try another time. Relaxing on his seat, he took his time to drink the warm coffee, careful not to burn his lips when sipping from the hot cup.

It was getting late, and Lavi would be working until eight if he wasn't mistaken. He looked at his watch and stretched. It was already seven. Standing up, he walked over and casually barged in the kitchen looking for the Chinese girl as if he was an employee himself. No one cared, though. He was part of the family, even if he didn't work there.

"What do you need?" Lenalee asked sweetly when came in, dropping a pile of dirty plates on the deep sink.

"My coat," Kanda said in his low voice. "I'm going home after I get it."

She paused for a second. Her amethyst eyes brightened. "Oh, your coat! Johnny found it on your chair, said he left it at the lounge. We figured it was yours. You had a thing for designer coats."

He wasn't sure if that was even a compliment. He stiffened. Wait, Lavi was in the lounge. "C-Can you get it for me?"

"I'm pretty busy, I have to get back on the floor," Lenalee declined truthfully. "Since when were you so lazy? It's just upstairs, you know."

That was mortifying, being scolded by his female friend that is. He inhaled before exhaling loudly. He shouldn't be nervous about something so trivial. He was just going to ask. It wasn't anything special.

The stairs to the lounge were awfully too steep for his liking, and the walls surrounding it were too narrow and dark. He saw the mahogany door and then opened it almost instantly. Lavi laid there on the touch, his vest unbuttoned and his bow tie in one side, playing some sort of rhythm game on his iPhone. His hair was held back by a headband instead of the wax-to-one-side style for presentation, since waiters were supposed to look neat and professional.

"Oh, hey!" Lavi sat up in a hurry, noticing Kanda, who began to walk over and open drawers of all furniture existing in the room.

Kanda was in the room, alone with him. When he said he'd be in the lounge if Kanda needed him, he didn't actually expect the said man would come. "Ya looking for somethin'?"

"My coat. I left it here," the black-haired man replied, still searching in the drawers, disliking the fact that there was too much unnecessary furniture in the lounge.

"Lemme help you find it," Lavi insisted and stood up. "What does it look like?"

"Agnés B."

"How very specific," he said in a soft voice and with obvious sarcasm. Kanda didn't seem to hear it. It sounded like some kind of fashion brand. He assumed it was a designer coat. Lavi wasn't into branded clothes. All his clothes were simply from department stores and mall outlets. He was a bit culture-shocked on his first days in Paris, though. Everyone, both men and women, were just so chic, that his usual V-neck from Gap and his flap-pocket cargos earned him repulsed looks in the streets. His liking for scarves did help though, especially when every guy that passed guy somehow wore a scarf.

"You know…" Lavi started, having the urge to tell a story. He walked over to a cabinet and searched as he talked. "I had high expectations when I first came here."

Kanda stopped his tracks and looked at him. He mocked, "What did _you_ expect? Women, wine, cheese, and the Eiffel Tower?"

Lavi laughed because he was actually right. "I can't say I didn't. I mean, this city is always in movies and TV. And I thought: wow, it must be great living there." He observed Kanda, he seemed to be listening, so he continued, "I was just… disappointed. Aside from the fact that my grandfather left me here with little financial help and a vague explanation on how things work, it really disappointed me. It kinda broke my heart."

"Paris isn't really different from any city. I hate how people always think Paris is the best city in the world." Kanda mused, somehow forgetting he was looking for something.

Lavi inwardly chuckled. He thought the same about New York. "I guess there isn't a perfect city. Everyone just thinks how beautiful and artsy Paris is, thinking living here would be picture-perfect. They never thought living here is the same as living in fucking Zurich. I shouldn't be really saying that, since that was my way of thinking when I got in here. Everything is expensive. My apartment is expensive, the food, furniture, clothes, taxis… and though I got 'round to that and stuff, I still feel broke every time I go home."

"Do you want to leave?" Kanda asked, out of interest. For him to talk that much was never unusual when it came to Lavi. He had always made him talk more than he should.

Lavi pursed his lips. "Well, yeah. I won't lie that I thought of leaving."

"It isn't so bad living here," Kanda muttered quietly. "Like you said, there's no perfect city. There's always a downside everywhere you go. Moving won't make much of a difference."

Lavi couldn't even believe what he was hearing. It sounded like Kanda was trying to convince him not to leave the City of Lights. He found himself looking outside the tall window. His eye widened. April was known for the blooming daffodils, lilies, and rosemary, but it was also known for its sudden rainstorms. He hadn't noticed it was raining. "I didn't say I wanted to leave now. Something changed my mind."

"Like what?"

"This café." Lavi paused, bracing for what he would be saying next. "Specifically, you."

Kanda blinked as his eyes widened at Lavi's words. Thank god they weren't facing each other. He wouldn't want Lavi to see what kind of face he was making. Was he being serious?

"Those butterflies. I'm guessin' you don't get it." He looked at Kanda again, who was now pretending to ignore him. Lavi held back a chuckle. It was easy for him to get something like a box of butterflies. He still had contact with his manager from his previous work, who knew people and places that sells those frills and confetti used in parties and events. The orange-headed waiter walked over to a stout oak dresser adjacent to the sofa. He opened one of the drawers and found a wrinkled fabric in it. He blinked twice before realizing. "Is this your coat?" He asked and presented it to him.

Kanda's eyes twitched. His coat was all wrinkled. He marched and snatched it from Lavi's hand. It looked horrible and creased. "That—that Johnny… I'm going to kill him!" He said menacingly, his hands trying to iron the fabric.

Before Kanda could say anymore, Lavi stepped forward. The move brought him in front of Kanda. The student chef's brows flew up. His heart suddenly began to beat faster. His stomach fluttered nervously at the closeness. He was too stunned to protest.

"Do you feel that?" Lavi asked in a barely audible voice.

"F-Feel what?" Every time Kanda stepped back, Lavi would always fill up the gap and stride forward. He swallowed. His heart raced like crazy.

"Your stomach. Doesn't it feel like there are butterflies inside?" Lavi smiled softly, his voice solemn. If that was what he meant with the butterflies, there sure was a lot in his stomach right now. Kanda could only widen his eyes and open his mouth, only to close it again for he couldn't speak, feeling all kinds of anxiety. "If you feel that…"

Lavi moved forward again. There was only an inch difference in their height, but as Lavi was starting to close the space between them, and as Kanda kept staggering the opposite way, it took him by surprise when the backs of his thighs hit the low armrests of the sofa. He gasped and fell backwards; impulsively pulling the other man down on top of him, grunting as he felt Lavi's weight perched hard on him and the softness of the couch on his back.

Kanda knew something was wrong from the very beginning. Because whenever Lavi's shift was over, the usual thing he would do was sit with him, and he didn't at that time, he just went up to the lounge. He was lured into a trap before he even knew it. Now they were in that awkward position. It didn't matter if Lavi planned it or not. If he didn't leave in the next second, his heart wouldn't be able to take it anymore.

Lavi pushed up, looking down at the surprised man under him. "The first time you went into my mind, you never left." He huffed a bit.

"S-Stop..." was the only word Kanda could muster.

"I was attracted to you out of curiosity, and somehow, as I force myself into your life, as I meet other people… I figured that you're different. You just fascinate me," Lavi confessed. Even he was surprised. He didn't know when it happened, but suddenly he wanted Kanda all to himself.

"Lav—" the supposed to be protest from Kanda died on his lips as Lavi descended. Their muscles tensed, almost to a painful strain. Their eyes intuitively closed as Lavi's lips brushed Kanda's in the most fleeting and most tender peck, barely a kiss at all. They looked at each other for a while, searching for something in their eyes. By the time Lavi would lean in for another one…

"G-Get off!" Kanda pushed hysterically, but didn't nudge Lavi a tiny bit. He held his position. Kanda clutched his shoulders and tried to shove the man off again. "I know you're just playing around—!"

"I'm not playing around. I'm serious," Lavi said earnestly, still maintaining eye contact.

"Get off!" He repeated, again and again, but Lavi didn't falter and pinned him tightly below him.

"If you don't like it so much, why aren't you pushing hard enough?"

It struck Kanda, leaving him vulnerable with those naïve blue eyes. "God, you're so goddamn adorable," Lavi accused in a grunting voice as he took Kanda's face in his hands, and kissed him, harder this time. When Kanda slightly opened his mouth and reciprocated, Lavi smiled against his lips, continuing the kiss for two more breaths before pulling away.

"You kissed back," Lavi uttered with a smile, resting his forehead against Kanda's. A slight amount of warmth puffed across their lips, feeling each other's breaths.

"I wasn't kissing back…! I was pushing you away!"

"Yeah, with your mouth."

Thank god he forgot his Agnés B. coat.

**Author's Note:**

> So I posted this first on ff.net. I'm gonna be updating here, too from now on :) There're gonna be slight changes in the early chapters that I'm gonna post. I began to write this when I started uni and since I'm a student in the College of Tourism and Hospitality Management, I thought it would be fun to write a story about something I love doing! Cooking!
> 
> BTW, title translates to "dreams of lovers are like good wine" from the song "Le Festin" by Camille.


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